
Class Jl\L^SD_ 
Book vV^ r I 
(iopyiigIit}]!'._ 

COP^OilGHJ DEPOSm 



The Court of Love. 

From a design by F. Pradilla. 



Romance of 
The Feudal Chateaux 



BY 
ELIZABETH W. CHAMPNEY 



ILLUSTRATED 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK & LONDON 
^be IRnichcrbocker ff>res0 

I goo 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 

Library of Congress* 
Office of the 

D£G 1 2 1j<l<f 

Register of CopyrlghtSit 



JC 



48554' 



Copyright, i8 



ELIZABETH W. CHAMPNEY 
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 



SECOND COPY, 

Ube Iknicbcrbocfier prees, IHew lorft 



'^\JSU>V^ 'V.'S Z*^^. 



TO MY HUSBAND 

Who has made all my privileges possible ; and who long 

ago discovered the Enchanted Castle of Merlin, invisible 

and indestructible, " in which we live, without (to our own 

knowledge) growing old, or parting, or ceasing to love one 

another,"— this book, the gathering of a happy life, is 

dedicated by 

ELIZABETH W. CHAMPNEY. 

Forest of Broeciliande, 
May i^th, 1899. 




CONTENTS 



,;^ I. 

II. 

III. 

IV.— 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 



Introduction 

Treasure-Trove . . . . 
Angers, the Mother Castle . 
A Castle of the Sea . 

(Mont St. Michel) 
A Fool's Errands 

(Falaise and Caen) 
Harebells and Broom . 

(The Spectres of Chinon) 
The Lodestones of Love 
The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 
The War of the Three Toans . 
The Story of Chateau Josselin . 
■Guyonne de Laval 
Interlude . . . . . 
The Secret Chamber . 

(Coucy and Pierrefonds) 



XI. 
XII. — The Afterword 



I 

40 

74 
III 

209 

241 
285 
337 
354 
371 
391 
400 

426 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN PHOTOGRAVURE 

^ The Co2irt of Love . Frontispiece 

From a design by F. Pradilla. 

Chdteaudun . . . ... .40 

Mont St. Michel . . . . .112 

Chateau Falaise — View from Mont 

Myra 15^ 

^ The Trozcbadour .... 242 

From a design by Cesar Detti. 

Chateau Gaillard ..... 286 
The Falconer s Recital .... 332 

By permission of the American Art Association. 

Chateau Josselin ...... 354 

Chdteazi Laval . . . . .. 37^ 

Chateau Pierrefonds .... 416 

' Reproduced from Moderne Ktmst, published by Richard Bong, 
Berlin, Germany. 

vii 



Page 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

OTHER THAN PHOTOGRAVURE 

A Stockaded Farm 

Bird' s-eye Viezv of Arques 

Plan of Arques 

Angers .... 

Dolmens, in Brittany 

Alengon .... 

Guard Tower at Caen . 

Chamber in Chateau of Xllth Centttry 

Ruins of ChdteatL of Chilton . 

JVorman Armour— Linked Mail, Xlth 

CentiLry ...... 2jo 

Plate Armour, XVth Centttry . . 2j2 

Chamber in Chateau, of Xlllth Century, 24^^ 



74 

146 
150 

210 



X Illustrations 

Page 

CoiffzLre — Time of Queen Bleanor . . 2^8 

Bird's-eye View of G at Hard . . . joS 

GroiLud Plan of the Chateau Gaillard . J12 
Attack by the Drawbridge from the Bef 



froi ..... 


• 320 


Keep of the Chateau Gaillard 


. 326 


Old Tower at Montfort L Amaury 


■ 338 


Josselin — Exterior View 


• 342 


Feeding a Prisoner 


. 3S2 


From an old print. 




Montfort ..... 


• 388 


Laval — Exterior View . 


■ 392 



CoiLcy — Interior, Showhig Thickness of 

Walls 400 

Coney ....... 402 

Coucy — Bird's-eye View ■ . . . . 408 

Chamber in Chateau of the XlVth 

Century . . ... . . 418 



Illustrations xi 

Page 

Pierj^efonds — Bird's-eye View . . 420 

Statue of DtLke of Orleans in Pierre- 

fonds ...... 422 

Vincennes ...... 426 

From an old print. 

Loches ....... 428 



/ , r 

hClottres poudreux, salles antiques, , ,■'■' 
Oil gthfis'saient les saints catitiques- 
Oil riaent les banquets joyeux ! 
Lieux oil le cceur met ses chimtres ! 
Eglises oil priaient nos meres! ..-^ , 

Tours oil combattaient nos aieiix ! k " . 

\ 

O debris, mines de France, 
Que notre ajnour en vain defend / ^JK/^^'^^ 
Les jours de joie oii de souff ranee, ' ^ iy^ 
Vieux monuments d' un. peuple enfant ! ,^ 

Mes pas errants cherchent la trace y /' 
Z)e ces fiers guerriers dont V audack,. 
Faisait u?i trone d" un pazwis ; 
Je dejuande, oubliant les heures, 
All viel echo de leurs demeures 
Ce qui lui reste de leur voix. 

Les f or ter esses ecroulle'es, 
Fas la chevre errante foule'es, 
Courbent leurs tetes de granit j 
Restes qu' on aime et qii on ve'nire ! 
L' aigle a leurs tours suspend son aire, 
L' hirondelle y cache son nid. 

Victor Hugo. 




ROMANCE OF 
THE FEUDAL CHATEAUX 



INTRODUCTION 

THE HISTORICAL AND ARCHITECTURAL 
BACKGROUND 

THE romancer, like the playwright, if his 
period is given, has his work in great part 
mapped out for him, for the date decides not 
alone the scenery, the costuming, and other 
adjuncts of the play, but the customs and op- 
portunities of life, and so in great measure the 
plot itself. 

Romance is the child of History, and as 
legitimately, though less obviously, the child 



2 Feudal Chateaux 

of Architecture ; and the knight who wore 
harness and hved within the rou^h walls of a 
grim fortress was a different man, for those 
very reasons, from the silken courtier who 
lolled over the carven balustrades of a chateau 
of the Renaissance. 

We have few vestio^es of the dwellino^s of the 
earlier races in France, for they built in earth 
and wood, and their constructions have for the 
most part disappeared. The oldest stone mon- 
uments in the country are the Celtic dolmens 
of Brittany, and these were not dwellings but 
tombs and altars. Though we can point to no 
other constructions of this half-mythical period, 
Brittany is by far the best field in France for 
the lover of the earliest legendary lore. Its 
authentic history glides back in an untroubled 
stream to primeval man, uncomplicated by 
any political or social changes. In 58 b.c, 
Brittany was made nominally a Roman pro- 
vince, but Caesar never really conquered this 
part of Gaul, nor did the Merovingian kings, 
and thus it remained undisturbed in the cult 
of its Druidical religion and its tribal independ- 
ence until the eighth century, when it was 
subjugated by Charlemagne. 

Civilisation, education, convention, were slow 
to enter Brittany. It was the " Wild West " of 



Introduction 3 

France ; its people are still simple, with strong 
natural instincts, credulous, kindly, childlike in 
their wonder and unquestioning piety, with the 
virtues and faults of savages. ■ Conservative, 
contented, mixing little with eastern and south- 
ern France, excepting in fight, they are in more 
direct communication with the farthest past, 
believe its traditions and keep up its customs, 
and, having less that is new to think of, have 
forgotten less of the old than any other pro- 
vince. We find here fewer modern buildings 
and more ancient ones. The architecture is 
principally Gothic, for the Renaissance, which 
triumphed everywhere else in France, hardly 
found any lodgment here, and its irreverent 
curiosity and intellectual doubt never entered 
the Breton's happy mind. They lived their 
frankly physical lives with heartiness, loving 
dearly a fair fight, but preserving a crude hon- 
our even in their hatreds, which forbade treach- 
ery though not cruelty, and entering into the 
simpler enjoyments of life with a whole-souled 
gaiety, which while it gave credence to mys- 
teries was not greatly troubled by them. 

It is to Brittany, in greater part, that we owe 
the Arthurian legends, for Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth asserts that he found his material there. 

The enchanter, Merlin, is entirely Breton, and 



4 Feudal Chateaux 

the version of the story preserved through 
French channels is sweeter and simpler than 
its English culmination in Tennyson's idyl of 
Vivien. The romances of Lancelot and of 
Tristram and Iseult were gradually evolved by 
wandering trouveres at a later period, and bring 
in the flavour of the Courts of Love and the 
lighter thought of Provence. But it was a 
Breton again, Walter de Map, who opposed 
these romances by the inspired ideal of Sir 
Galahad. 

" My good sword carves the casques of men 
My tough lance thrusteth sure, 
My strength is as the strength of ten 
Because my heart is pure." 

It was his genius, too, that wove the unre- 
lated legends into an epic cycle by the common 
motive of the quest for the Holy Grail. And 
this motive at once elevated the morale and 
the poetic construction of the whole. 

Remnants of these leo^ends are still rehearsed 
in Brittany, and until recently we are told that 
a man would have been stoned who dared to 
assert that King Arthur was not a historical 
personage, while several of the dukes of 
Brittany, including the unfortunate Prince 
Arthur, son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, were 
named for him. Tradition, though regarded 



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A^iii^ '/w^ 




A STOCKADED FARM. 



Introduction 5 

as an airy nothing, is for this period more en- 
during than architecture ; for the Hterary 
remains of this ancient epoch have outlasted 
the palaces of its kings, the fortresses of its 
warriors, and every other monument except 
the huge stones of the Druids. 

For four centuries and a half, from 51 B.C. 
to 406 A.D., Gaul was under the control of 
Rome. The Roman proprietor did not fortify 
his country dwelling, but lived, in the security 
of the protection of his great government, in 
simple temporary villas, fleeing, when occasional 
forays were made by barbarians, to the nearest 
oppidum, or fortified town. Roman civilisation 
introduced good roads, good bridges, aque- 
ducts, military engineering as applied to forts 
and town walls, and civic architecture, such as 
temples, palaces, baths, tombs, theatres, arenas, 
etc., but It left no lasting record of the life of 
the landed proprietor. 

The Frank swept over the land, absorbing 
or blotting out the work of the Roman, and 
still the country nobleman and his castle bided 
their time to appear. For the Frank brought 
ruder manners, loved Isolation, and took 
heartily to a country life ; but he lived on 
great farms and grouped his granaries and 
stables about a central wooden blockhouse, 



6 Feudal Chateaux 

surrounding the entire group by a palisade of 
pointed logs. It was the life of a frontiers- 
man, a barbaric chief, who nevertheless, as he 
gathered his dependants about him, was build- 
ing up a lordship which, as it became modified 
by contact with the more civilised Romanised 
Gauls, was to develop into the French nobility. 
Another race poured in on the West, and 
the Norseman brought new influences, espec- 
ially in building. The Frank had defended 
his personal dwelling, his ranche, but the Nor- 
man defended his territory, and wherever he 
set his invading foot built strong forts of stone 
to hold what he had taken. He fortified the 
Seine, the Loire, and the Garonne, from whose 
mouths his galleys made their way into the 
heart of France, and controlled these rivers by 
means of forts upon the islands, peninsulas, and 
promontories, and by chains and sluice-gates 
and obstructions, with fire-boats lying in wait 
in sheltered coves. At first, as pirates of the 
sea, the Norsemen had built for themselves 
mere fortified camps and storehouses for booty, 
such as the Hague dike, the earthworks of 
which can still be traced at the end of the 
Cotentin. Very soon, however, the idea of 
conquest of land as well as of movable wealth 
entered their minds, and on every hilltop, 



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BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF ARQUES. 



— iaSN 



Introduction 7 

along the rivers and the roads, a vidette watch- 
tower was built of enduring stone, as token of 
permanent occupation and to flash beacon- 
lights from one to the other on the first ap- 
proach of an enemy. These forts or towers 
were at first garrisoned only by men, but later 
the invaders took to themselves French wives 
and became settlers, and the forts, homes. 

Iprom the time of Charlemagne France had 
suffered from incursions of the Norsemen, and 
in the early part of the tenth century the most 
formidable of their chiefs, RoUo, repeatedly 
ravaged France. He had the friendship of 
Alfred the Great of England, and his incursions 
became so numerous and so dreaded that in 
911 the necessity of treating with him was 
clear, and Charles the Simple held a confer- 
ence with him and offered him a domain in 
France if he would settle peacefully. The 
offer was accepted, and Rollo the Norseman 
gave the name of Normandy to his fief. It 
was his great descendant, William, Duke of 
Normandy, who in 1066 gained his appellation 
of the Conqueror and the English crown at the 
battle of Hastings. 

In the century and a half between Rollo 
and William the Conqueror the Norseman re- 
volutionised country architecture in France, 



8 Feudal Chateaux 

and the castle had its birth. Roughly speaking, 
the castle-building epoch of France extended 
from the year looo to 1500, with a recess of a 
century about the middle of the period. The 
last Crusade and internal war were responsi- 
ble for this halt. From the advent of Rollo 
the Normans had built industriously ; by the 
eleventh century all France had caught the 
building fever and until 1240 castle after cas- 
tle sprang up all over the land. 

The Crusades called the French knights to 
adventures beyond seas ; and the seigneur 
put his estate in pawn, and allowed his roofs 
to leak and his walls to topple that he might 
raise the funds necessary to equip his follow- 
ing in this last struggle for the Holy Land. 
With the death of St. Louis the Frenchman 
lost his crusading fire, and settled himself to 
rebuilding his castle, but the persecution of the 
Albigenses and the war with England destroyed 
more fortresses than were erected. Those, 
however, that were built after 1360 brought 
the science to its perfection. From this period 
date the magnificent fortified palaces of which 
Pierrefonds is the type. 

The sixteenth century saw the end of castle- 
building by the seigneurs, and with it the de- 
cline of knicfhthood. Thereafter the French 




PLAN OF ARQUES. 



Introduction 9 

chateau was a royal maison de plaisance, of 
very different architecture, and gunpowder did 
away with the grand old walls and towers even 
in fortification. 

It will be seen from this review that the 
history of French castle-building is the history 
of feudalism in France. If to-day the life of 
the Norman seigneur, and even that of the 
feudal nobility of a later period, seems to us 
absurd, we must study its conditions and those 
from which it rose and we will recognise that 
it was the only way from barbarism to civil- 
isation. 

Of the mythical period it has been explained 
we have no authentic remains. The Angfers 
of Roland was not the Angers of to-day, and 
the Norman's keep is the first castle that we 
enter, sure of standing within the very building 
in which our hero's life was passed. Let us 
question these old walls and they will tell 
us much of that life which has not been pre- 
served in written records. 

The most perfect specimen of a castle of the 
very early Norsemen is that upon the island of 
Mousa near Zetland, which is thus described 
by Sir Walter Scott in a note to Ivanhoe. 

" It is a single round tower, the wall curving in slightly, 
and then turning outward again in the form of a dice- 



lo Feudal Chateaux 

box, so that the defenders on the top might the better 
protect the base. It is formed of rough stones, selected 
with care, and laid in courses or circles, with much 
compactness, but without cement of any kind. The 
tower has never to appearance had roofing of any sort ; 
a fire was made in the centre of the space which it en- 
closes, and originally the building was probably little 
more than a wall drawn as a sort of screen around the 
great council-fire of the tribe. But although the means 
or ingenuity of the builders did not extend so far as 
to provide a roof, they supplied the want by constructing 
apartments in the interior of the walls of the tower itself. 
The circumvallation formed a double enclosure, the inner 
side of which was two or three feet distant from the 
other and connected by a concentric range of long fiat 
stones, thus forming stories or galleries rising to the top 
of the tower. Each story has four windows looking into 
the interior of the tower. A path, on the principle of an 
inclined plane, turns round and round the building like a 
screw and gives access to the different stories, intersecting 
each of them in turn and thus gradually rising to the top 
of the wall. On the outside there are no windows." 

By slow degrees the Norsemen learned the 
art of roofing-in their buildings, of springing 
arches, and making staircases, but the Norman 
idea of a stronghold would not have sprung 
up on every hand if the time had not been 
ripe for them and political conditions called 
for such constructions. 

Throughout the tenth century the descend- 
ants of Charlemagne had slowly declined in 



Introduction 1 1 

power, until, under the last Carlovingian, 
France was divided into one hundred and fifty 
fiefs, each a petty state governed by an inde- 
pendent noble. This was feudalism: "a col- 
lection of individual despotisms exercised by 
isolated aristocrats, each of whom being sover- 
eign in his own domains had to give no ac- 
count to another, and asked nobody's opinion 
about his conduct towards his subjects." But 
it had also another side, a sense of fealty toward 
the King who was suzerain of all. A nominal 
sovereign they must have to secure any unity, 
and recognising the superiority of one of their 
own number, Hugh Capet, over the legitimate 
king, the grandees of France on June 29, 
987, unanimously elected him King of the 
Gauls, the Aquitanians, the Bretons, the Nor- 
mans, the Goths, the Spaniards, and the 
Gascons. 

Among the chieftains present at this election 
were Foulques Nerra of Anjou, Eudes, Count 
of Blois, Chartres, and Tours, Bouchard, Count 
of Vendome and Corbeil, Gautier, Count of 
Vexin, and Hugh, Count of Maine. Each of 
these puissant lords had his own great castle, in 
which he reigned more truly than Hugh Capet 
over the nation at large. From this time to 
the Crusades rose the abbeys and early Gothic 



12 Feudal Chateaux 

cathedrals ; during this period castles sprang 
up in every province and were well defended 
against the aggression of powerful neighbours, 
for the nobles grew more numerous, more pre- 
tentious, more jealous of each other. The 
two families most ambitious and most success- 
ful were those of William of Normandy and 
Foulques of Anjou. Under the domination of 
the latter "the lower reaches of the Loire 
bristled with fortresses in a long crescent from 
Aneers to Amboise." He built or enlaro-ed 
Loudon, Mirebeau, Montresor, Montrichard, 
Langeais, Montbazon, Loches, and Chinon. 
But William the Conqueror was the greatest of 
all castle-builders, for he erected seventeen great 
strongholds in England, prominent among 
which are Conway, Rochester, Cardiff, Kenil- 
worth, Windsor, and the Tower of London. 
Indeed England had no castles before the 
coming of the Conqueror, and must acknow- 
ledge her debt of the castle idea to France. 
William erected nearly as many strongholds in 
Normandy, and the English and French castles 
of this time have the same characteristics. 

The chateau of Arques, near Dieppe, built 
by the uncle of William the Conqueror in 1040, 
was the prototype of the Norman fortress of 
his time and is explained with archaeological 



Introduction 13 

exactness by Viollet-le-Duc in his Dictionary of 
Fre7ich Architecture. H is plans, elevations, and 
sections, with the accompanying text, should 
be studied by everyone who wishes thoroughly 
to understand the special peculiarities of the 
castle in the different centuries, — how its 
architecture was modified as the art of defence 
and the science of military engineering pro- 
gressed, and the special meaning and use of 
every detail. 

A few of these plans are reproduced in this 
volume, but can only be briefly touched upon. 

Arques was built on a tongue of chalk 
cliff, a promontory defended by nature on 
three sides. This was the favourite site of the 
Normans for their chateau forts ; we shall find 
it again in Gaillard, built by Richard Coeur de 
Lion, who, with the knowledge and experience 
of two more centuries of castle-building, could 
not improve on this situation. Beyond the 
outer walls of the castle a deep ditch sur- 
rounded the entire works. If the besiegers 
succeeded in scaling the cliffs they found them- 
selves unprotected on the brink of this fosse 
and not beyond the reach of the arrows from 
the archers behind on the battlements, while 
their own, directed upward, were less likely to 
reach their aim, and it was impossible to drag 



14 Feudal Chateaux 

heavy battering-rams, mangonels, towers, and 
temporary bridges up the cliffs. 

The main attack would therefore be on the 
entrance, D, which was defended by outer 
walls, B, called a barbican. Within the walls 
were two courtyards, the outer, L, called the 
bailey, used for the stables and outbuildings 
of the chateau. K was the second gate, a 
drawbridge crossing the trench which separated 
the two courts. H was the square donjon, the 
residence of the seigneur and the last retreat 
of the garrison. The donjon commanded the 
entrance, K, and the entire court. Its angles 
communicated with the che7nin de ronde, or 
ramparts of the outer wall. If the enemy 
took the court, L, they could not mount on the 
ramparts of the inner court, as they were 
higher than those of the outer bailey, and 
archers could be deployed from the donjon to 
fire down upon them. It was the habit of the 
Franks to build their blockhouse in the centre 
of the court, but the Norman showed more of 
ruse in placing his at the side. Should it be- 
come necessary to evacuate the castle a postern- 
gate was arranged at K, defended by a fortified 
building, P, commanding both the court, O, 
and the fosse. Besides the postern, that led 
by means of a drawbridge to a road down the 



Introduction 15 

cliffs commanded by the donjon, a subterranean 
passage connected the latter with secret paths 
and defiles which would enable the garrison to 
escape or by which reinforcements or provisions 
might be introduced under cover of the night. 

Such was the usual plan of the defences of a 
Norman castle, but these fortifications were 
modified as the science of attack and defence 
progressed. The castle Itself, at first simply a 
strong tower or a square donjon-keep of three 
or four stories, each containing but one or 
two rooms, became a commodious and stately 
dwelling, and in the fourteenth century, as 
has been said, no longer a fortress but a forti- 
fied palace. 

The ordinary engines for conducting a siege 
In this first period were the battering-ram, the 
trebiichet, and the mangonel. The last was 
an Instrument for throwing great stones and 
blazing tar barrels, and was worked by a wind- 
lass. The principle of the trebuchet was that 
of a sling : It consisted of a great beam whose 
shorter arm was so heavily loaded that when 
the other end was released It was possible, as 
Frolssart relates, to hurl back Into the castle the 
messenger who had been secretly despatched, 
and had been taken by the besiegers. 

In the story of the siege of Chateau Gall- 



i6 Feudal Chateaux 

lard, we shall see how the system of fortification 
was improved in the second period of castle- 
building, when the wooden hourds which pro- 
tected the battlements were replaced by ma- 
chicolated parapets, through the openings of 
which boiling oil, pitch, molten lead, and what 
a humorous writer denominates as '* other hair 
curlers " were showered upon the heads of the 
besiegers. 

The Crusaders brought back from the Orient 
the secret of Greek fire, and Richard Coeur 
de Lion introduced flanking towers ; the mine 
was met by the countermine ; but until the 
invention of gunpowder the castle was stronger 
than any force which could be brought against 
it, and the dread Marshal Famine was needed 
to summon it to capitulation. 

If the feudal system developed " irregular- 
ities of ambition, hatreds, and quarrels among 
near neighbours, with outrages on the part of 
princes, energy of character, activity of mind, 
and indomitable will were not wantinof." The 
sentiment of loyalty welded all together, and 
Christianity, grafted on this thorny stock, blos- 
somed in that flower of the age — rChivalry. 

Let us inquire a little more closely into the 
causes which brought about this efflorescence. 

In the study of architecture, as in that of 



Introduction 17 

history, " we learn how age develops into age, 
how century reacts upon century, how thought 
inspires action, and action modifies thought." 
The castle, while giving security, at least at 
intervals, and developing military life, gave an 
elegant leisure, which fostered the arts, patron- 
ised letters, and amused itself in diversions. 
These were at first simple, such as riding, 
hunting, and jousting, interspersed with feast- 
ing, the story of the trouvere, and the song of 
the wandering minstrel. But later they became 
more luxurious and complicated, culminating 
in the tournament and the literary Courts of 
Love. 

Armour was modified and perfected, keeping 
pace in its changes with the development of 
the chateau. Chain mail, properly called har- 
ness, was used during the reign of Charle- 
magne, the conquest of England, and the 
Crusades, and was made by the Moors at the 
forges of Toledo. The old Goths wore coats 
of bull's hide on which were sewn metal rings. 
William the Conqueror and his Normans 
wore hauberks or suits of linked mail, which 
are represented in Matilda's tapestry. The 
earlier Crusaders wore long gowns of linked 
steel over their robes, and their coats of mail 
were heavy but supple. The knights who wore 



1 8 Feudal Chateaux 

the'm could wheel and swerve and manoeuvre, 
but though the links would turn the sharpest 
sword the mace could inflict a heavy bruise. 
Shoulder-pieces, elbow-, and knee-plates were 
added, the transition in the fourteenth cen- 
tury to plate armour. Between 1400 and 1450 
plate armour attained perfection, and the arm- 
ourers of Milan were noted for their beautiful 
works of art, fitted to the wearer, and inlaid 
with gold. Later the fluted armour of the time 
of Maximilian was introduced. Then came 
the invention of gunpowder, and armour and 
castles alike received their death-blow. Bayard, 
the last and most perfect flower of knighthood, 
was killed by a pinch of the "devil's dust," 
and impregnable fortresses could be blown up 
by bombs from long-distance cannon. 

The joust and tourney have been mentioned 
as diversions of the Middle Ages. The joust 
was a simple passage at arms between two 
knights, but the tournament became a most 
complicated ceremonial. So expensive and 
dangerous was it that it ruined the fortunes of 
the seigneurs, and as many as sixty knights were 
killed in a tourney held at Cologne in 1245. 
Philip Augustus made his sons swear never 
to take part in one, and the Pope finally placed 
them under his ban. The Field of the Cloth 



Introduction 19 

of Gold, organised in June, 1520, was the 
most magnificent and one of the last of the 
tournaments. 

Good King Rene of Provence arranged 
many, among the most brilliant of which was 
one held at Chinon in 1446, which lasted sev- 
eral weeks, and was called " 1 'Emprise de la 
Gueule du Dragon." King Rene wrote a code 
of punctilious etiquette for their procedure 
in which he lays down the dictum that only a 
prince or a noble of very high degree and re- 
nown can of right give a tournament. He 
imagines, by way of example, that the Due de 
Bretagne desires to challenge the Due de Bour- 
bon to courteous combat, in which case the 
former, as appellant, must privately ascertain 
whether the latter will accept, whereupon they 
proceed to the following public ceremonies : 
The appellant invites some notable herald to 
act as King at Arms, and says to him, " Take 
this sword to my cousin, the Due de Bourbon, 
and say to him for me that on account of his 
valiance, prudence, and great chivalry, I send 
him this sword to signify that I burn to fight a 
Tourney of Arms with him, in the presence of 
ladies and damsels and others, on a day and in 
a place convenient, and offer him a choice of 
half the judges." 



20 Feudal Chateaux 

The appellant and defendant were each al- 
lowed to select four of these judges, with the 
restriction that in each case two of the judges 
must be of the country of their opponent, and 
all notable and valorous men. The herald 
having repeated his message with even more 
ceremony, the defendant accepts in the fol- 
lowing terms : 

" I do not accept to make show of my own 
prowess, but to give my cousin pleasure and 
the ladies diversion." 

The defendant presents the herald with a 
mantle on which are quartered the arms of the 
contending parties and, in the four corners, 
those of the judges. The judges convene and 
arrange all preliminaries, sending poursuivants 
to cry the tournament at the King's court and 
in the chief cities of the kingdom. 

" Oyez, oyez," shouted the poursuivant, " be 
it known to all princes, seigneurs, barons, 
knights, and squires of the march of the Isle 
de France, of the march of Champagne, of the 
march of Flanders, etc., and to the knights of 
Christian countries, if they are not enemies 
to the King our Sire, to whom God give long 
life, that at such a time and in such a place 
will be a great pardon of arms and very noble 
tourney, fought after all the ancient customs, at 



Introduction 21 

which tourney the chiefs are the very illus- 
trious Due de Bretagne, appellant, and the 
very valorous Due de Bourbon, defendant, and 
all knights of all Christian countries, provided 
they are not at variance with the King, are 
hereby invited to take part in the said tourney 
for the glory of knighthood and the fame of 
their ladies." 

Further pompous preliminaries followed : the 
entry of the knights into the town chosen for 
the tournament ; the display of the helmets, 
when any lady had the right to strike one, in- 
dicating that its owner was a false knight and 
not worthy to combat ; the showing of banners 
at the lodgings of the accepted knights ; ban- 
quets, and more announcements by the herald, 
and finally the tournament. 

Note — Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Blashfield have 
illustrated and explained the armour worn at a 
tournament in a scholarly article published in 
Scribners Magazine, from which the following 
description is quoted : 

" The jousting armour was more magnificent and 
theatrical than that worn by knights upon the battlefield, 
with a greater display of banners and blazons. The 
tourneying knights wore armour heavier in front than 
behind and bassinets (helmets) with open grated visors, 
on which rested the great tourney helms with their 



22 Feudal Chateaux 

strange devices. They fought with ' courteous arms,* 
that is to say, the swords having no point and being too 
wide in the blade to enter the opening of the visor (while 
the spears were blunted and called rochets). The 
heaviest and most complete horse armour was found at 
tourneys. A double board fence surrounded the lists, 
and on one side tribunes were erected, one for the judges 
and two for the ladies. A double cord stretched across 
the lists separated the parties, who faced each other, each 
knight with his mounted standard-bearer behind him. 
Four mounted axmen stood ready to cut the cords. As 
the trumpets blew the cords fell, the banner-bearers 
retired, and the fight began. In charging the knight 
stood in his stirrups. If the aim was good the lances 
splintered. Sometimes, as in Kinsgley's Heretvard, all 
four, horses and men, found themselves sitting upon the 
ground among the fragments of the lances. A splinter 
from the lance of the Count of Montgomeri entering the 
narrow sight of the visor of Henry II. put an end at once 
to the king's life and to jousting in France." 

The pageant had reached a pitch of extrava- 
gance which must soon have insured its dechne 
without this accident. At first the lady's 
favour, a scarf or veil, or, like Elaine's, 

" a red sleeve 
Broidered with pearls," 

was either attached to the helmet or suspended 
from the shoulder of the knight's sword arm. 
Later her coat of arms was frequently blazoned 
or embroidered upon his surcoat, a tunic worn 



Introduction 23 

over his armour. The crusading Knights 
Templars wore white surcoats on which was 
blazoned the red cross of Jerusalem. Tourney- 
ing knights wore surcoats of samite, or silk, 
of what colour or device pleased their fancy. 
It is hard to imagine a bird of gayer plumage 
than the princelings of the day in their full 
war-paint. When the lady of Belles Cousines 
asked Jean de Saintre if he were provided with 
a surcoat for an enterprise he was about to un- 
dertake in Spain, he replied : " My lady, I have 
three ; the first of crimson damask richly em- 
broidered in silver furred with Siberian marten, 
the second of blue satin lozenged with jewels 
and bordered with miniver, the third of black 
damask wrought with a border of silver thread 
about a device of green, violet, and grey plumes, 
your colours, the whole trimmed with white 
ostrich feathers dotted in black spots like 
ermine." 

Though loaded with luxury and etiquette 
the tournament was a rude and dangerous 
pastime fitted only to feudal times when, in the 
intervals of fierce war, men could find no sport 
so interesting as fighting for pure love of 
contest. 

Rough-riding and tilting at the^ quintain, a 
lay figure on a pole, and the play of rings, 



24 Feudal Chateaux 

mimicked now in the merry-go-round, was the 
boy's pastime in the castle courtyard and 
orchard. Later he left his home to serve as 
varlet in some grander castle and squire for 
some famous knight. Austin Dobson's The 
Dying of Tanneguy du Bois gives a vivid pict- 
ure, not alone of the death of a knight at a 
tournament, amid the flash of scarves and 
waving hands, but also of the castle life of the 
period : the wife in the turret watching for him 
through the narrow window, a mere slit in the 
massive wall, the boy with a reed for a lance 
charging in play and slashing the heads from 
the lilies. 

" Yes, with me now all dreams are done, I ween, 

Grown faint and unremembered ; voices call 
High up, like misty warders dimly seen 

Moving at morn on some Burgundian wall ; 
And all things swim — as when the charger stands 

Quivering between the knees, and east and west 
Are filled with flash of scarves and waving hands; 

There is no bird in any last year's nest. 

" Is she a dream I left in Aquitaine ? 

My wife Giselle — who never spoke a word, 
Although I knew her mouth was drawn with pain 
To watch me trotting till I reached the ford. 

" Ah ! I had hoped. Got wot — had longed that she 
Should watch me from the little-lit tourelle, 



Introduction 25 HI 

Me, coming riding by the windy lea — 

Me, coming back again to her, Giselle ; 
Yea, I had hoped once more to hear him call, 

The curly-pate, who, rushen lance in rest, 
Stormed at the lilies by the orchard wall ; 

There is no bird in any last year's nest. 

" Give ye good hap, then, all. For me, I lie 

Broken in Christ's sweet hand, with whom shall rest 
To keep me living, now that I must die ; 
There is no bird in any last year's nest." 

Even in feudal times the life in the chateau 
was not all brutal. There were oppression and 
cruelty, the torture chamber and the oubliette ; 
there were robber-like excursions, harrying of 
fields, sieges of neighbouring castles. There 
were black revenge and inordinate ambition, 
but there was also a reverse to this picture. 
"Fearlessness, the generous use of power and 
strength, succour to the weak, comfort to the 
poor, reverence for age, for goodness, for 
women," were springing up, and, with these 
ideals, courtesy of manners and progress in 
education. The troubadour was welcomed in 
the hall, and the trouvere told his legend and 
the jongleur played his lute. And the trou- 
badour was no base-born child or travelling 
mountebank, but a noble, educated in one of 
the abbeys. William of Poitou, the grand- 



26 Feudal Chateaux 

father of Queen Eleanor, was one of the first 
of the troubadours, and he and his grand- 
daughter made Bourdeaux the centre of a 
brilliant poetic coterie, which caused the gai 
savoir, the polite literature of romance and 
poesie, to become popular throughout France. 
The chatelaine of the castle kept a book in 
her bower in which she asked each visiting 
troubadour to write down any of his romances 
which were new and particularly pleasing. 

The troubadour guest-room was always 
ready, and sometimes he abode with the family 
during an entire winter, composing poems in 
honour of his hostess, which some artist-monk 
from the neighbouring priory illuminated on 
fine parchment. The castle was not dependent 
alone upon the troubadour for its literature. 
The monks copied the classics as well as the 
Scriptures and legends of the saints, and the 
library begun at Blois by the early Dukes of 
Orleans is an example of the interest taken by 
the nobles in letters before the invention of 
printing. The monks at this time were not only 
the exponents of scholasticism, but of the arts 
and crafts as well. They were dramatists, 
musicians, sculptors, naturalists, wood-carvers, 
engineers, and architects. The monks of 
Cluny were notable architects, and the pro- 



Introduction 27 

fession was nearly monopolised by them for 
centuries. 

We must not forget that the same age 
which built the stern and simple castle elabo- 
rated Gothic architecture ; though it was not 
until the heart was gone out of religion that 
the same luxury of art was lavished upon the 
dwellings of the noble as upon the cathedral 
and the abbey, and the stone walls of the 
castle were lined with wonderful carved wain- 
scoting, tapestries filled the space above, and 
the rafters were blazoned in vermilion. 

Ruskin admires the self-sacrifice and the 
reverence of the seigneur who lived simply 
and hardily in inconvenient and undecorated 
dwellings and poured out such a wealth of 
beauty upon the buildings devoted to God. 
It was religious as well as artistic " exaltation 
to which we owe those fair fronts of variegfated 
mosaic charged with wild fancies and dark 
hosts of imagery thicker and quainter than 
ever filled the depth of a midsummer dream ; 
those vaulted gates trellised with close leaves, 
those window labyrinths of twisted tracery, 
those masses of multitudinous pinnacle and 
diademed tower. All else for which the build- 
ers laboured have passed away. They have 
taken with them to the grave their power, their 



28 Feudal Chateaux 

honours, and their errors, but they have left us 
their adoration." 

The beautiful Gothic abbey was usually 
nestled beside some powerful fortress, its 
acknowledged protector and patron, so we will 
find the castle of Monfort I'Amaury protecting 
the abbey of St. Leger ; Coucy, Premontre ; 
and Chinon, Fontevrault. 

Alfred de Musset alludes lovingly to this 
companionship : 

" Que j'aime a voir, dans la vallee 

Desolee, 
Se lever comme un mausolee 
Les quatre ailes d'un noir moutier ! 
Que j'aime k voir, pres de I'austere 

Monastere, 
Au seuil du baron feudataire. 
La croix blanche et le benitier ! 

" Que j'aime a voir, dans les vesprees 

Empourprees, 
Jaillir en veines diaprees 
Les rosaces d'or des couvents ! 
Oh, que j'aime aux votJtes gothiques 

Des portiques, 
Les vieux saints de pierre athletiques 
Priant tout bas pour les vivants ! " 

So their ruins stand to-day. The stronghold 
on the summit of some eminence, commanding 
a watercourse or one of the Roman roads. 



Introduction 29 

the abbey nestling beside the castle, and the 
two forminpf the citd or ecclesiastical and aris- 
tocratic quarter of the ville, or home of the 
burghers, which gathered around them on 
the hillside. It is this picturesque grouping 
that makes French landscape so attractive to 
such nomad artists as Hamerton and Pennell, 
and by its suggestive companionship charms 
the poet and the romancer. 

The proximity of the castle and abbey had a 
nobler significance. The monks were not alone 
humanisers and educators. 

" The Church of the Middle Ages, " says 
a standard authority, " possesses the passionate 
devotion of the foremost minds of the time, 
and left a system which really penetrated and 
acted upon the minds of men. It stood be- 
tween conqueror and conquered and form- 
ulated a system common and possible to all." 

Chivalry was the direct result of the blending 
of the Christian ideal with a militant life. The 
ceremony of knighting the young candidate 
was complicated and impressive, and included 
many symbolical and religious acts, such as 
bathing, fasting, the vigil at arms, confession, 
communion, and the formal dubbing. Before 
receiving the accolade the aspirant was asked, 
" To what purpose do you desire to enter an 



so Feudal Chateaux 

order? If to be rich, to take your ease and be 
held in honour without doino- honour to knig-ht- 
hood, you are unworthy of it." If his answer 
was satisfactory, the knights and ladies who 
were to act as sponsors drew near and invested 
him in his maiden armour, and the accolade or 
three blows with the flat of the sword were 
given him and he was made a knight " in the 
name of God and of St, Michael and St. 
George," the two militant archangels. 

The knights had to swear to twenty-six 
articles : 

(i) To fear and reverence and serve God religiously, and 
to die rather than to renounce Christianity ; 

(2) to serve and fight for their King and country ; 

(3) to uphold the rights of the weaker, such as widows, 

orphans, and damsels ; 

(4) that they should not injure anyone maliciously, or 

take what was another's, but rather do battle with 
those that did so ; 

(5) that greed, pay, or profit should never constrain them 

to do any deed, but only glory and virtue ; 

(6) that they would fight for the common weal ; 

(7) that they would obey their generals ; 

(8) that they would guard the honour of their country ; 

(9) that they would never fight in companies against one, 

and that they would eschew all tricks and arti- 
fices ; 

(10) that they would wear but one sword unless they had 

to fi^ht against two or more ; 



Introduction 31 

(11) that in tourney they would never use the point of 

their swords ; 

(12) that being taken prisoner in a tourney they would be 

bound on their faith and honour to perform in 
every point the condition of capture, besides being 
bound to give up to the victors their arms and 
horses and being disabled from fighting in war 
without their leave ; 

(13) that they would keep faith inviolably with all the 

world ; 

(14) that they would love and succour one another ; 
{15) that having made a vow to go any quest they would 

never put off their arms save for the night's rest ; 

(16) that in its pursuit they would not shun bad roads 

or perils ; 

(17) that they would never take wage from foreign 

prince ; 

(18) that in command of troops they would never suffer 

violence to be done ; 

(19) that in the escort of dame or damsel they would 

save her from all danger or insult or die in the 
attempt ; 

(20) that they would never offer violence to dame or 

damsel though they had won her by deeds of 
arms ; 

(21) that being challenged to equal combat, they would 

never refuse, without wound or sickness or other 
reasonable hindrance ; 

(22) that having undertaken any enterprise they would 

devote to it night and day unless called away by 
King or country ; 

(23) that having made a vow to acquire any honour they 

would not draw back without having attained 
either it or its equivalent ; 



32 Feudal Chateaux 

(24) that having become prisoners in fair warfare they 

would pay to the uttermost the promised ransom 
or return to prison at the day and hour agreed 
upon, on pain of being proclaimed infamous and 
perjured ; 

(25) that on returning to the court of their sovereign they 

would render a true account of their adventures, 
even though they had been worsted, to the King 
and the registrar of their order, on pain of being 
deprived of the order of knighthood ; 

(26) that above all things they would be faithful, court- 

eous, and humble, and never wanting to their word 
for any harm or loss that might accrue to them. 

Gibbon says " the order of knighthood was 
particularly dedicated to the service of God 
and the ladies," and adds, " I blush to unite 
such discordant names." After reading these 
twenty-six articles one is at a loss to under- 
stand his blush. 

Tennyson epitomised the code in Arthur's 
ideal knight. 

" Who reverenced his conscience as his king. 
Whose glory was redressing human wrong, 
Who spake no slander, no, nor listened to it. 
Who loved one only and who clave to her." 

This ideal was formed by degrees ; the hero 
of Tennyson's imagination was of a loftier 
character than the Arthur of the troubadours, 
as that hero was a different one from the real 
Arthur of the sixth century, if he ever existed. 



Introduction 33 

We shall see how the castle was in many- 
respects the outer physical expression of the 
man, only one layer removed from his armour, 
and all developing together to a more perfect 
whole. 

One great romancer or rather necromancer, 
Walter Scott, " the poet of romantic legend, 
of adventure, of chivalry, of life in its heyday 
of action and its golden glow of pageantry 
and pleasure, could alone adequately rebuild 
these crumbling battlements and shattered 
towers, and pour through their ancient halls 
the glowing tide of life and love, of power 
and beauty and song." But he has touched 
few of the French chateaux with his magic 
wand ; many of them have disappeared, and 
the old piles that remain tottering day by day 
still await patiently their chronicler. 

Fergusson in his History of Architecture 
says of them : 

" France is not so rich as Germany or England in 
specimens of castellated architecture. This does not 
apparently arise from the fact of no castles having been 
built during the Middle Ages, but rather from their 
having been pulled down to make way for more con- 
venient dwellings after the accession of Francis I., and 
even before his time when they had ceased to be of any 
use. Still the chateaux of Pierrefonds and Coucy are in 
their own class as fine as anything to be found elsewhere. 



34 Feudal Chateaux 

The circular keep of the latter castle is perhaps unique 
both from its form and its dimensions. Tancarville still 
retains some of the original features of its fortifications, 
as do also the castles of Falaise and GaiJlard. The keeps 
of Vincennes and Loches are still remarkable for their 
height. In the south the fortified towns of Carcassonne 
and Aigues-Mortes, and in the north, Fougeres, retain 
as much of their walls and defences as almost any place 
in Europe. The former in particular, both from its situ- 
ation and the extent of its remains, gives a singularly 
favourable and impressive idea of the grave majesty of 
an ancient fortalice. But for alterations and desecra- 
tions of all sorts, the palace of the popes at Avignon 
would be one of the most remarkable castles in Europe; 
even now its extent and the massiveness of its walls and 
towers are most imposing. 

" These are all either ruins or fragments; but the castle 
of Mont St. Michel in Normandy retains nearly all the 
features of a mediaeval fortress in sufficient perfection to 
admit of its being restored, in imagination at least. The 
outer walls still remain, encircling the village which 
nestles under the protection of the castle. The church 
crowns the whole, and around it are grouped the halls of 
the knights, the kitchens and offices and all the appurte- 
nances of the establishment, intermingled with fortifica- 
tions and defensive precautions that must have made the 
place nearly impregnable against such engines of war as 
existed when it was erected, even irrespective of its sea- 
girt position." 

Each grim donjon is the background for 
some sinister or heroic figure. Sometimes, as 
the chateau of Coucy, it is the background 



Introduction 35 

for many such, since in these long-enduring 
walls (which but for the insane rage of man 
would hardly have felt the tooth of time), 
memories of one age lap over upon another 
and ghosts flit that never knew each other in 
life. We have chosen only a few as typical : 
Angers, with its traditions of Roland and the 
peers of Charlemagne ; Mont St. Michel with 
souvenirs of Rollo and the Vikings, with 
legends of the submerged castle of Is close at 
hand ; ^aen and Falaise, which tell the story of 
William the Conqueror ; Chinon, the cradle of 
the Plantagenets; Avignon and Carcassonne, re- 
echoing the poetry of the troubadours; Gaillard, 
that proved Richard Coeur de Lion the great- 
est military engineer of his time ; Monfort 
I'Amaury, Josselin, and Laval, unfolding like a 
tapestry the panorama of the war of the Three 
Joans, with Du Guesclin always in the fore- 
ground ; and Coucy giving dissolving views all 
through the centuries, from Merovingian times 
until it unites with Pierrefonds to tell of the 
ambition and fall of Louis d'Orleans. Gentle 
St. Louis walks with De Joinville before the 
stately Keep of Vincennes ; gloomy Gaston de 
Foix rages at Pau ; Louis XL, wily and cruel, 
peers from Plessis les Tours and from Amboise 
at those castles of death, the gibbets,, with their 



36 Feudal Chateaux 

ghastly habitants, or at that more grewsome 
living death in the dungeons of Loches, and in 
his greedy kingship strikes the first blow to 
feudalism, just as it is coming to perfection. 

All through the centuries we shall see how 
the ideal of the perfect knight grew ; that 
William of Normandy was far nobler than 
Rollo, and he of the Lion Heart more courteous 
and cultured than the bluff Conqueror, while 
St. Louis is immeasurably in advance of 
Richard in purity, sweetness, and all the qual- 
ities which make the ideal King Arthur. Du 
Guesclin, sprung from comparatively humble 
birth, gives an uplift to commonalty through 
his personal emprise ; Charles of Orleans, writ- 
ing his poems in captivity, or collecting his 
literary circle at Blois, is a forerunner of the 
Renaissance, and Rene, the artist-king, calmly 
painting his miniatures while his castles are 
taken from him, has the same disregard for 
material wealth and dignities which marks the 
modern artist. Froissart's ideal, as shown in 
his hero, Gaston de Foix, who finds his high- 
est pleasure in his kennels, and Simon de 
Montfort, whose perverted conscience makes 
him burn hundreds of heretics, has been lost 
sight of in a clearer vision of what perfect 
knighthood should be. And at last, just as 



Introduction 37 

chivalry passes from the world, the ideal 
achieves its realisation in Bayard, sans peur 
et sans reproche. 

With the passing of the knight, feudalism 
and its stronghold also passed from the scene, 
and the royal chateau of the Renaissance sprang 
up to mark a new era, when the King was 
supreme and the noble had lost all of nobility 
but the name. Agrippa d'Aubigne was the 
last who dared shut himself in his fortresses 
and refuse to surrender them to the King. 
Richelieu issued an edict In 1626 which ordered 
the destruction of all useless castles and fort- 
ifications in the kingdom. Only those were 
to be spared which were on the frontiers, or 
possessed special value in case of foreign war. 
The measure while strengthening monarchy 
was also aimed against the Huguenots. 
Castles, which, like Montargis, had been a 
hospice for Protestants and defied the armies 
of the League and the King, were not to be 
suffered to exist. All through the south of 
France, and in Provence especially, the work 
of blowing up the grand old towers and walls 
went on. There Is something akin to fury In 
the French blood, which loves to destroy Its 
monuments, remembering only the wrongs 
that it has suffered ; and the local population 



38 Feudal Chateaux 

joined with the King's authorities in sacking, 
pillaging, and demolishing. The Revolution 
nearly completed the work which the religious 
wars and monarchy had begun, and though 
every town in France has its ruin, we under- 
stand why Fergusson's reproach is true, that 
there remain fewer well preserved specimens 
of feudal fortresses in France than in Engfland 
or Germany. 

The writer loves these ruins, and the tradi- 
tions which cling to them. Some have been 
told her by simple people on the spot ; others 
she has found in old chronicles in which she 
has read a trifle between the lines, seeing looks 
and gestures and little explanatory phrases 
with guesses at thoughts and motives, written 
in that magical sympathetic ink which is too 
faded and faint to catch the eye of the searcher 
for authenticated statistics ; and so she must 
explain that, of the tales that follow, though 
some are historically true, of others she must 
write as Caxton did in his preface to the Morte 
cf Arthur of Sir Thomas Malory : 

"I have down-set in print, the gentle and virtuous 
deeds that some knights used in those days, by which 
they came to honour, and how they that were vicious 
were punished and put to shame. Do after the good 
and leave the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame 



Introduction 39 

and renomm^e. And " — while we hope that — " for to 
pass the time this book shall be pleasant to read in^ but 
for to give faith and belief that all is true that is con- 
tained herein — ye be at your liberty." 




CHAPTER I 

TREASURE-TROVE 

IT was as though some enchanter of the dim 
past had Hfted his wand and time had stood 
still for centuries. 

Here were the same moats and massive 
walls, the great entrance with the portcullis 
rusted into its grooves, the meurtri^res, or 
tiny slits of windows where the archers stood, 
the "pepper-pot turrets and extinguisher roofs." 

When we crossed the permanent bridge, 
which at Chateau La Joyeuse now replaces 
the ancient drawbridge, we drifted back into 
legendary times, and felt ourselves as unreal 
as the unsubstantial characters in an old rom- 
ance. For the stately life, at once ceremo- 
nious and simple, has scarcely changed, and 
has never been interrupted (save by that dis- 

40 



Ch^teauclun. 



Treasure-Trove 41 

agreeable episode of the Revolution) and still 
goes on within its walls as it has always done 
since the ennoblement of the first La Joyeuse. 
That was long ago, in the tenth century, and 
the castle itself was built somewhere in the 
thirteenth. It escaped the lynx eyes of Riche- 
lieu only because it was such a little chateau, 
defending nothing in particular, and because it 
was in so inaccessible a region that it seemed 
to have run away and hidden itself. There 
were ruins on the one side, which added to the 
picturesque effect of the whole ; but in this 
case it was the more modern and ornate wing, 
erected at the time of the Renaissance, which 
had been destroyed. The mad peasants found 
what had escaped the envy of royalty, and at- 
tempted to burn the entire chateau ; but the 
thicker walls of the more ancient portion had 
resisted the flames, and a tower and one wing 
remained, antiquated and solitary, like an aged 
man who had lost his children and with them 
every link to the present. 

And yet its name. La Joyeuse, was not a 
misnomer. There was no hint of sadness in 
the life at the chateau. It was calmly retro- 
spective, and untroubled by the turmoil of the 
present. A sweet sense of peace, and remote- 
ness alike from the ambitions and drudgery of 



42 Feudal Chateaux 

modern life, pervaded all. Every appoint- 
ment was archaic, with no incongruous modern 
improvements of electric lifts and lighting to 
replace the monumental stone staircase, up 
which the family toiled in ghostly procession 
each evening, their twinkling bedroom candles 
making luminous will-o'-the-wisps in the dark 
hall ways. There was the same sense of sim- 
plicity and antiquity in the spacious rooms, 
severely furnished in precious old carved oak, 
black with age. Ancient arras with dim fig- 
ures, hunting scenes for the most part, formed 
appropriate backgrounds for antlers and boar- 
spears ; the raftered ceilings were picked out 
in painted heraldic designs, and a few old por- 
traits looked down from walls that had echoed 
the voices of their originals. 

Every detail was fitting and unostentatious ; 
each object was old, very old — a priceless heir- 
loom. There were not enougfh of them for 
the riotous taste of modern times (which 
would turn every room into a heterogeneous 
bric-a-brac shop), but with the severity was a 
sense of quiet dignity, of accustomed use, and 
of aristocracy that had been aristocratic for so 
many centuries that it had lost all self- 
consciousness. 

Without, the dependencies of the chateau 



Treasure-Trove 43 

were those of a great farm, but even here the 
huge dove-cote, with room for a thousand 
pigeons, in itself attested seigneurial rights, for 
only the seigneur could keep the rapacious 
pigeons, which were by the old laws allowed to 
devastate the peasants' grain fields. 

The La Joyeuse family harmonised with 
their environment, or rather gave to it its se- 
rene and elevated character. 

The Vicomte was absorbed in archaeology 
and in his collection of antique coins. The 
daughter of the house, Yseult, was winsome 
and debonair, as full of pranks and merriment 
as an American girl, and as fond of outdoor 
sports as an English maiden. Both were un- 
conscious and sweetly unassuming. Only the 
Vicomtesse recalled the portrait of the old 
Marquise in her boudoir, and suggested in 
every intonation of her voice and dignified 
gesture that she never forgot her position, and 
that a jewelled coronet would have received, 
not have added, distinction by resting on her 
small head, so imperiously was it carried. 

I have called their name La Joyeuse, chiefly 
because that is not the appellation of either 
the family or the chateau, for one does 
not repay the friendship and confidence of 
years by notoriety ; and though La Joyeuse 



44 Feudal Chateaux 

fittingly describes their sunny natures and the 
chateau in the laughing Breton landscape, no 
one will recognise under it our gentle host and 
hostess. 

In the earlier stages of our acquaintance 
they had been surprised at the interest which 
we took in the history of the chateau, in the 
legends of the neighbourhood, and in the 
romances which had been lived by the originals 
of the old portraits. They had spoken of 
their " American ancestor," so called because 
he had gone to America with his friend Count 
Rochambeau to fight for our liberties. It 
seemed natural to them that we should be 
pleased to know of him ; but that we should feel 
an equal interest in an old crusading ancestor 
quite passed their comprehension, 

Yseult showed me the old knight in a 
lumber room, where a coterie of portraits of 
ancestresses, decked out as shepherdesses a la 
Watteau, were holding a forlorn little levee 
among broken-legged ormolu tables and 
buhl cabinets from which the inlay was 
dropping. 

" This is the room of the emigres," she ex- 
plained. " When the chateau was sacked the 
family fled, but the faithful servants, before the 
mob arrived, dropped the portraits and the 



Treasure-Trove 45 

most valuable furniture into the oubliette in 
the donjon tower. They were not discovered 
until years afterward, when they were res- 
cued in this dilapidated condition. They have 
waited ever since for a time when we could 
spare the money to have them restored. The 
knight's portrait was painted in Venice on his 
return from the Crusades. Father could tell 
you his history, I presume, for he lives in the 
past. He makes me think of Gautier's hero : 

" Ame retrospective, il loge 
Dan son chateau du pass6 
Le pendule de son horloge 
Depuis des siecles est casse." 

At first the old Vicomte only smiled in- 
credulously when I attempted to explain my 
love of old legends as something akin to his 
own passion for corroded coins, but at length 
he was won over and the archives of his 
rich memory were opened to us. Having 
exhausted his store he suggested fresh fields. 

" We have plenty of old vulture's nests like 
this in Brittany, as heavily laden with tradi- 
tions as are our oaks with mistletoe. If you 
like we will make a driving tour, and you shall 
have your fill of gables and fables." 

" And after you have gathered your legends," 



46 Feudal Chateaux 

said Yseult, " after you have made the old 
castles deliver up to you their secrets, you 
must remember it was only half of the duty of 
the trouveres to find. They repeated their 
stories in the halls of the chateaux, and you 
must come back to us and tell your legends 
here. We will imitate one of the old proven- 
9al courts of love, and will all dress in the cos- 
tume of the period. I will practise some of 
the early chansons and will have a jongleur to 
play my accompaniments upon a lute." 

The invitation was extended to us collect- 
ively, and particularly to me as a trouvere or 
finder of romances ; but it was a visiting 
architect, a young student of the Ecole des 
Beaux Arts, who had been making measured 
drawings of the Gothic chapel (under Yseult's 
direction), who answered with alacrity and 
decision, " We will certainly come." " And in 
the meantime," continued Yseult, with slightly 
heightened colour and more pointedly address- 
ing the scribe, "we will all help you. My 
father shall admit you to his sanctum, the 
library, and we will see what shades of the past 
we can waken for you here." 

Yseult spoke gaily, for there were no lugu- 
brious stories connected with Chateau La 
Joyeuse. It was the last place where one 



Treasure-Trove 47 

could expect to see a ghost, and yet it was 
here that the apparition first appeared to me 
that I was to track through many a tangled 
romance and find and lose in many an old 
chateau. 

The library was in itself a fascinating room, 
situated in the round tower, near the ruined part 
of the building. The upper part of the walls 
was hung with tapestry and armour, the 
lower lined with books. From the shelves the 
Vicomte took down old histories and chansons 
de geste, which he piled beside me on the study 
table, a most valuable introduction to the 
voyage of exploration which we afterwards 
made to the shores of the past. 

One day he asked me if I had read the 
stories of The Table Round. 

" Only Tennyson's version," I replied. 

'* Oh, but you should read old Robert de 
Borron!" he exclaimed. "His Viviane is so 
different, so pure and sweet, you could read 
the legend to a child ; on boit du lait en lisant 
far ■ 

He opened the old book and read aloud 
and I was soon deeply absorbed in the nar- 
rative. When he laid it down, there were tears 
in the eyes of both reader and listener. 

" Whatever you find in your wanderings," 



48 Feudal Chateaux 

he said, "may it be your good fortune to dis- 
cover the enchanted castle of Broecilande. 
Once I thought I had found it ; but no, that 
castle has no memory of sorrow or of sin — it is 
not La Joyeuse." 

While the Vicomte was speaking, Finette, 
Yseult's maid, entered quietly and laid some 
letters upon the table. The Vicomte opened 
his letters and left the room, but Finette 
still lingered, softly taking up books and lay- 
ing them down again and indulging in such 
conspicuously unnecessary attentions as an- 
nounced a desire for conversation. Finally her 
curiosity became irrepressible and she asked, 
" Where is the Chateau of Broecilande of 
which the Vicomte was speaking ? " 

"Somewhere in Brittany, but no one knows 
exactly where." 

" Anatole could find it " she said meditatively. 
" Anatole knows all the old castles hereabouts. 
If Madame will tell me all the story, — I only 
heard the last part, — perhaps I could recognise 
some locality that would give a clue to finding 
the castle." 

" The Vicomte did not say that the story 
was all true, Finette." 

She nodded in a sidewise, knowing way. 
" Trust me, I can tell you if a story is true ; I 



Treasure-Trove 49 

was not born yesterday. The VIcomte was in 
earnest when he said he hoped you would find 
the castle. If Madame will have the goodness 
to proceed." 

" A long time ago, then, Finette, just after 
King Arthur had chased away the demon 
which under the form of a black cat guarded 
the bridge of Lausanne, and routed in the 
plains of Autun the Roman army, and killed 
the giant of Mont St. Michel " 

" It is true ; I know all about that." 

** You were personally acquainted with the 
giant ? " 

" I have sat in his chair ; it is a matter of 
history." 

" Very well, after this historical event, Mer- 
lin asked leave of King Arthur to go into the 
heart of Brittany and " 

" Pardon, Madame, who was this Merlin ?" 

** The book says, Finette, that he was an 
enchanter and the son of a devil and a nun, 
and so had two natures, but the good tri- 
umphed ; and after he was baptised, though he 
possessed demonic power he exercised it only 
for good." 

Finette nodded approvingly. " I have known 
devils to be converted," she said, " and as for 
enchantments, there have things happened in 



50 Feudal Chateaux 

this chateau, yes, in this very room, that cannot 
be explained — but it is Madame who is telling 
the story, not I." 

" While Merlin was travelling, he entered 
the forest of Broecilande and, as he was resting 
beside a fountain, a girl of twelve approached 
him. Merlin was a grey-bearded old man, but 
the moment he saw her coming, he assumed the 
appearance of a young varlet, or youth of good 
family. The young girl's name was Viviane, 
and De Borron says that at this time she was 
the most beautiful creature that one could 
dream. Merlin could not take his gaze from 
her, but all the time he kept saying in his 
heart, ' What folly, nevertheless, in me, that I 
should lose the wisdom and sense God has 
given me for a simple young girl.'" 

Finette smiled. " Men are all alike," she 
said loftily — " all fools when they are in love, 
as doubtless Madame knows, for though 
Madame's husband does not look like a fool, 
yet he married Madame." 

" Do not interrupt me, Finette," I said 
severely. " Merlin introduced himself to the 
maiden as a student in search of a master, and 
the maid explained that she was the daughter 
of a vavasetir who lived in the neighbourhood. 
* What would you learn ? ' she asked. 



Treasure-Trove 5 1 

" ' Magic,' he replied ; ' and I can already 
perform a few feats.' 

" * What can you do ? ' asked Viviane. 

" * I can lift a chateau into the air, although 
it may be surrounded by besiegers, and trans- 
port it to an inaccessible place.' 

" ' Certes, you are already wonderfully 
learned. Do you know the future ? ' 

" * Assuredly.' 

" ' I would see a proof of your art.' 

" ' For your friendship there is nothing that 
I would not do. I will both cause you to 
witness my power and will teach you how 
to work the same wonders, if you will grant 
me your love.' 

" Merlin made a circle upon the grass and 
seated himself within it, beside Viviane, and 
presently many knights and ladies entered 
the circle, dancing and singing, while strains 
of charming music floated through the air. 
Around them sprang up a beautiful garden 
filled with exquisite flowers. A magnificent 
chateau arose in the background, and servants 
brought from it and served upon its terrace a 
sumptous banquet. 

"Viviane listened with all her miofht but she 
could only half understand the refrain of one 
of the songs : 



52 Feudal Chateaux 

' Love comes as blooms the blossoming rose, 
As silently and surely goes.' 

" Merlin lifted his hand and all this phantasm- 
agoria vanished. Viviane regretted that she 
had only two eyes to behold it all, and begged 
to be tauQfht to work similar wonders. 

" ' And will you hold to your agreement and 
for my trouble give me your love ? ' 

" * You have it now.' 

" And Merlin, looking into her eyes, knew 
that she spoke sooth. 

" ' Since you can read and write,' he said, 
' I will teach you more secrets than any woman 
ever knew.' 

" * How do you know that I can read and 
write ? ' 

" ' The moment I saw you I was aware of all 
that ever happened to you. I can read your 
thoughts ; you love me as I love you — I can 
trust you. Take therefore this parchment and 
write down the lesson that I will teach you.' 

" * What will you teach me ? ' 

" ' To produce glamour, as I have just done, 
and to make men see what you will.' 

"So Merlin taught her to make the semblance 
of lake or river where drops of water never 
flowed, and to make men fancy that they saw 
whatever she bade them." 



Treasure-Trove 53 

" I have seen that done," interrupted Finette. 
"There was a man who came to the chateau 
who did it. They called it hyp- hyp- I for- 
get what. We called it devil's work, and he 
made us all very drunk from drinking wine out 
of empty bottles. How the Vicomte did laugh ! 
* That would save me a pretty account with 
my vintner if I knew the trick,' he said. But 
it had not the same satisfying effect ; there 
was no headache afterward. But pardon, 
Madame, mi7/e pardons ; I die to hear the rest 
of Madame's story of the fool wizard, and the 
wicked young girl who stole all his power," 

" She was not wicked, Finette ; she was as 
faithful as Merlin was trustful, for she loved 
him with her whole heart." 

" In that case," said Finette, " of course he 
went away and left her." 

"■ Yes, he went away, but he promised her 
that he would come again just one year from 
that day on the Eve of St. John ; and when he 
came he found Viviane waiting for him beside 
the fountain, and this time he taught her a 
great deal more of magical lore : how to change 
her form at pleasure, so that she should never 
grow old or hideous, and how to lay a spell 
on man or beast, so that they could never harm 
her. And all this Viviane wrote down care- 



54 Feudal Chateaux 

fully upon the parchment. She begged him to 
teach her to lay whom she would in a magic 
sleep, and this she explained was because she 
wished to throw her parents into a trance, so 
that they should not discover his visits. Merlin 
went away for the second time, but it was like 
death to Viviane to part with him, though she 
could not bring herself then to practise the 
spell which she had just learned upon him, nor 
did she wish to keep him with her asleep, for 
that would be to lose the pleasure of hearing 
him converse. Merlin, who read her thoughts, 
and could foretell the future, foresaw what the 
end would be and he bade farewell to King 
Arthur and to his friend, the hermit Blaise, 
saying, * I go to the land which I have reason 
to dread, sweet and lovely as it is, for there is 
a fairy in the forest who will bind me with 
chains, neither of iron nor steel, but so firmly 
that I shall never be able to return.' So Merlin 
was not surprised when Viviane said to him at 
their third meeting, ' There is one charm which 
I know not yet which I beg you to teach me.' 

" 'What is that, sweetheart?' Merlin asked, 
though he knew already. 

" ' I wish to know, dear love, how to lock 
without bolts or bars, so that I can imprison 
whom I will.' 



Treasure-Trove 55 

" * I know all that Is in your heart,' said Mer- 
lin, ' and that if I teach you this charm I shall 
be your prisoner for ever.' 

" ' Is it not reasonable that this should be, my 
dearest love, since I am wholly yours ? Why 
should you not obey me as I obey you ? ' 

" * It is reasonable and just, my own,' said 
Merlin, ' for I know that you are mine ; ask 
what you will and I will do it.' 

" ' I desire that you should teach me to make 
a delicious retreat, impenetrable, invisible to 
others, where we two can live for ever without 
growing old, or parting, or ceasing to love one 
another.' 

" * This is my desire also,' said Merlin, * and 
nothing is easier. I will at once call into ex- 
istence such an enchanted castle.' 

" ' Nay,' said Viviane, 'but teach me how to 
do it, that I may be its maker and chatelaine ; 
then it may be made after my own fancies and 
last according to my will' 

" * It shall be as you wish,' said Merlin, and 
he taught her how to work this enchantment. 

" One day as they were walking in the forest 
they came to a bower of blossoming black- 
thorn and sat down, and as Merlin rested, his 
head in Viviane's lap, he fell asleep. Very 
softly she arose and wound her scarf nine times 



56 Feudal Chateaux 

around the bower and whispered the spell. 
Then she took his head again upon her knee 
and waited to see what would happen. Sud- 
denly there sprang up all around them the 
towers and bastions of the strongest fortress 
that was ever built, and the blackthorn blos- 
soms wavered and flattened into figures of 
blackthorn embroidered on tapestry, and they 
were in a noble vaulted chamber of the great 
castle, and the branches of the trees became 
groined stone arches, through which golden 
stars were seen studded upon a blue ceiling, 
which was the sky dropped down and hardened. 
And Merlin awoke and found himself lying on 
a golden couch instead of a mossy bank, and 
he knew he was Viviane's prisoner. And he 
cried, * Ah, Viviane, you will be the falsest of 
women if you misuse your power.' For he 
knew that she could come and go at pleasure, 
while he must ever remain chained without 
iron or steel, and fast locked without bolts or 
bars. 

" ' My soul,' answered Viviane, 'could I ever 
leave you ? ' 

" And Viviane has been true, for she has 
never left him." 

" How long ago was that?" asked Finette. 

" Twelve centuries." 



Treasure-Trove 57 

" It is a wonderful story, is it not, that a 
castle could be built thus by enchantment ? " 

" The enchanted castle, that is not so won- 
derful ; I can readily believe that, and that a 
man should be a fool, — that is natural. But that 
a woman should be true for twelve hundred 
years, that is what is incredible." 

Finette left the room, but I still sat thinking 
of Merlin and his enchantments, when, chancing 
to glance up at an old helmet which hung above 
a door, I was startled to see within the cavern 
of the open visor the gleam of fiery eyes. I 
pinched myself and changed my position that 
I might be sure this was no hallucination. 
The eyes followed me. They were small and 
gleamed like coals of fire, and seemed to be 
set in a black face. I hurried from the room 
intending to call someone, but on the thresh- 
old was ashamed of my timidity and returned. 
Looking up at the group of armour I was still 
more puzzled to notice that the visor, which 
was open when I left the room, was closed. It 
was a relief not to see the eyes, but I was 
puzzled. Stories of robbers looking down 
through the openings cut in the eyes of portraits 
occurred to me, and I decided to investigate 
the wall against which the helmet hung. The 
door beneath it was opposite the one which 



58 Feudal Chateaux 

communicated with the other rooms of the 
chateau, and was secured by a rusty boh which 
I had some difficuhy in drawing. It gave way 
suddenly and the door swung heavily inward, 
pushing me back into the library. It was fort- 
unate for me that it had not been constructed 
to open in the opposite direction, for, as my 
hand still grasped the bolt, I might have been 
dragged outward into a yawning abyss. As I 
looked through the doorway I saw below me 
the blackened ruins of the burned portion of 
the chateau. Once a staircase had led up to 
this door. I could see the indications of its 
course jutting from the outer wall of the 
library tower; but the projection of these 
brackets was so slight that no human beins: 
could have found foothold upon them. 
Turning, I faced the Vicomte, who, entering 
the library, was surprised to see the door 
open. 

"Did you hear anything? Has anything 
alarmed you ? " he asked, and I fancied he 
seemed annoyed. His expression plainly asked 
why I had opened the door. 

" Not exactly alarmed," I replied, " but I 
fancied I saw eyes peering from that helmet 
and I opened the door to investigate. I see 
that I must have been mistaken. Of course 



Treasure-Trove 59 

it was an hallucination ; I had been reading too 
long and my eyes were tired." 

" Of course," the Vicomte replied with alac- 
rity ; "one can fancy anything, and since you 
heard nothing and the visor of the helmet is 
down, of course you were mistaken." 

" But," I replied, " the strange part of it is, 
that the visor was surely up this morning, for 
I happened to notice the helmet as I entered 
the room." 

" You are right, you are quite right," the Vi- 
comte replied gaily, " and I know now what you 
saw." Dragging a small step-ladder before 
the door, which he had closed, he thrust his 
hand within the helmet and withdrew what ap- 
peared to be a small iron mask, a grotesque 
face with eyes of large carbuncles. " I remem- 
ber placing this within the helmet myself," he 
said ; " it is a curio about which we have had 
much discussion, an ornament of an ancient 
suit of armour, probably the epatdier or shoul- 
der-piece. As I put it back within the hel- 
met you will see that it was no hallucination. 
From where you were sitting you saw the 
light reflected by the red stones, giving the 
eyes a positively demoniacal glare." 

" I can explain the closing of the visor, too," 
I exclaimed ; " when I first noticed this face 



6o Feudal Chateaux 

I ran out of the room, and the closing of the 
door must have jarred the helmet and caused 
the visor to fall." 

" Exactly ; there is always some physical ex- 
planation for any seemingly supernatural ap- 
pearance or sound when they are really seen or 
heard. There is a pretty story connected with 
the grotesque face. It was given to one of my 
ancestors by the greatest knight of France — 
Dunois — who, under Joan of Arc, delivered 
the country from the English. Should you in 
your visits to museums discover anything simi- 
lar I shall be grateful if you will send me word." 

The persistency with which this strange ob- 
ject reappeared and vanished again in the 
legends of the chateau was not only tantalis- 
ing but marvellous. At this time, however, I 
had no suspicion that it was more than a 
curious piece of bric-a-brac, and as I was more 
interested in literary curiosities than in an- 
tiquities of this kind, I gave it no especial at- 
tention. The ruins upon which I had glanced 
at the opening of the door interested me 
more. The Vicomte seemed to have nothing 
more to say, but rang for Finette to put the 
step-ladder away, and returned to the drawing- 
room. 

The maid looked at the door with a quick, 



Treasure-Trove 6i 

comprehending glance. It had, then, been 
opened. 

"Madame has heard anything? Madame 
has been alarmed ? " 

The similarity of her question to that of the 
Vicomte struck me. 

"Heard anything?" I replied. "What is 
there to hear ? " 

" But nothing ; it is of course quite impos- 
sible that Madame should hear anything in 
broad daylight, with Monsieur le Vicomte in 
the library too ! " 

" Neither Monsieur le Vicomte nor the day- 
light would affect my hearing in the least if 
there were any unusual sounds," I answered, a 
little fiippantly. 

" Perfectly, and as these sounds were not 
unusual, Madame would neither be startled 
nor notice them. There is nothingf remarkable 
in footsteps going up- and down-stairs." 

" There are no stairs near the library." 

" Madame has seen that there were stairs 
formerly just outside." 

" But no living being could mount a van- 
ished stairway." 

" That goes without saying, and since 
Madame has heard nothing, there is nothing 
to be said." 



62 Feudal Chateaux 

The enigmatical girl glided respectfully 
away, leaving my curiosity piqued. Evidently 
there was some story of ghostly footfalls here, 
and since it was my province to collect stories, 
I had acted stupidly in discouraging informa- 
tion. I determined that if opportunity again 
offered I would make my peace with Finette 
and encourage any communication. 

The evening before we left Chateau La Joy- 
euse I stepped into the library to bid farewell to 
the spot I had enjoyed so much. We were in 
the long days of summer, and the afterglow 
of the western sky lighted the room dimly, but 
not sufficiently for reading ; so I patted the 
old books gratefully and lovingly on their 
backs of well thumbed calf, and sat down for 
a moment in the orreat arm-chair. At that 
instant I distinctly heard a light, quick foot- 
step, apparently mounting a hardwood stair- 
case just outside the wall. I was startled, but 
not frightened, and I listened acutely. The 
footfall I at once identified as that of a lady, 
for the tap of the little shoe on the uncar- 
peted stair was buoyant, light, and thoroughly 
excited. She was fairly running up-stairs 
now ; it seemed as if the next instant she 
must enter the door. I fancied I heard the 
turning of the bolt, and braced myself for some 



Treasure-Trove 63 

apparition, but the door remained closed and I 
saw nothing. There was no sound of foot- 
steps going down-stairs, and, impressed with 
the feeHng that the spectral lady must be on 
the landing outside, I again threw open the 
door. There was no lady and no landing ; 
only the same deep abyss, indistinctly lighted 
in the gloaming. Again I heard footsteps 
behind me and, turning, faced Finette, who 
was bringing in a lighted lamp. 

She did not repeat her question and ask 
whether I had heard anything. A look of 
quick intelligence passed across her face. She 
knew that I had heard it. " Yes," I acknow- 
ledged, " I have just heard the family ghost. 
Did someone fly up the blazing stairs and 
perish in the flames as the walls fell in ? What 
was the story ? Who was the lady ? " 

"I do not know," Finette replied, "but 
Zephyre might tell. She and her mother 
before her were in service here since their 
childhood. I used to ask her what it meant, 
and she knew, though she would not tell me. 
It has something to do with that face. Ask 
about it too." 

" Where is Zephyre ?" I asked. 

" I do not know — perhaps with Anatole ; he 
keeps a good inn at Ploermel, the Lion d'Or. 



64 Feudal Chateaux 

Madame could not do better than to stop 
there. Anatole is acquainted with all the re- 
gion thereabouts. I came from Ploermel my- 
self. It is a pretty country." 

** We are going to Ploermel," I said, " and 
we will certainly stop at the Lion d'Or." 

Finette smiled ; she was really a very 
pretty woman. " And if Madame will have 
the goodness to tell Anatole that I am going to 
Ploujean to see the mystery play of St. Gwen- 
ole this summer. He may like to see it too." 

" Tell me about the mystery play, Finette. 
" I have no doubt that I would like to see it." 

Finette was apparently ready to tell, but 
the Vicomte entered. " You are not going to 
spend your last evening moping here by your- 
self ? " he said, and Finette slipped quickly 
away. A cool night wind had begun to blow up 
the valley and flickered the flame of the lamp, 
and the Vicomte noticed that the door over- 
looking the ruins was again open. He made 
no inquiries, but I was too eager for the story 
to need encouragement, and I at once told him 
what had happened, and asked for an explana- 
tion of the sounds. 

*' It is very simple " he replied reassuringly. 
" You have mistaken the scufflingf of rats 
within the partition for footsteps outside." 



Treasure-Trove 65 

I was not convinced, but made no reply, 
for after all he might be right, and he seemed 
satisfied with his solution. Before he closed 
the open door, while still looking out into the 
twilight, which yet showed us the void beneath, 
he demonstrated the physical impossibility 
that a sound of footsteps could be produced 
where there was no resonant surface on which 
the foot could fall. Even as he spoke, the un- 
canny tread mounted rapidly toward us, with 
its tap, tap, tap of the light foot clear and dis- 
tinct, not within the walls but out on the open 
void upon the vanished stairway. Did the 
Vicomte hear it? He shivered visibly, then 
murmuring, "This night wind is very danger- 
ous," hastily closed the door. Clearly there 
was only one person who could or would ex- 
plain these mysterious sounds. I must find 
Zephyre. 

But though the Vicomte was averse to 
talking about the footsteps he was quite will- 
ing to satisfy my curiosity in regard to the 
grotesque face so far as it lay in his power to 
do so. 

" It is the story of Dunols," he said, " one 
of the most brilliant pages in the history of 
France. Yseult, my daughter, sing for our 
friends the little ballad of the plus vaillantr 



66 Feudal Chateaux 

Yseult seated herself at the piano and 
sang very simply and sweetly De Labordes's 
charming song : 

" Partant pour la Syrie 
Le jeune et beau Dunois 
Venait prier Marie 
De benir ses exploits. 
* Faites, Reine immortelle,' 
Lui, dit il en partant, 
' Que j'aime la plus belle 
Et sois le plus vaillant.' " 

" His prayer was certainly answered," said 
the Vicomte. " You shall hear the story at 
Chateaudun, Dunois's own castle. That shall 
be the first stage of your pilgrimage. We 
will drive there with you to-morrow. You 
will find the castle one of the most picturesque 
in France. I know of no other better suited to 
stand as a type of the best architecture of 
feudalism, and no knight who better than 
Dunois represents its manhood." 

And so it happened that in company with 
our friends, In the roomy family carriage drawn 
by the tireless Norman horses, Gamin and 
Farceur, we visited Chateaudun and many an- 
other castle. We found Dunois's proud home 
all that the Vicomte had promised, and agreed 
that the most impressive view was from the 



Treasure-Trove 67 

Loir, where its mighty foundations and as- 
piring, turret-crowned buttresses tower grandly 
upward, and are perfectly reflected in the placid 
stream. On the other side stands the ancient 
tenth-century donjon, with its pointed roof like 
a cavalier's hat. Ivy covers its massive walls, 
which are one hundred and fifty feet high. It 
is one of the oldest of cylindrical towers, — 
old when Dunois was a boy, antedating even 
Angers and Falaise. Nestling close beside it 
is the pretty Gothic chapel, which contains a 
statue of Dunois. The fa9ade of the chateau 
toward the inner court is most ornate, covered 
as it is with flamboyant Gothic tracery, and the 
superb staircase is only less famous than those 
of Blois and Chambord. 

Told in this well-preserved castle, Dunols's 
career seemed far more real to us than when 
remembered as a subordinate part of the his- 
tory of the Maid of Orleans. In a later cha- 
teau pilgrimage, we found him as a boy brought 
up at Blois by his foster-mother, Valentine of 
Milan, who loved him as much as she did her 
own boys, and inculcated upon him as a sacred 
duty the avenging of the death of his father, 
Louis of Orleans. Destiny had a nobler task 
for him, but family love and pride burned very 
intensely in the breast of this scion of the bar 



68 Feudal Chateaux 

sinister. He especially adored his brother 
Charles, the legitimate head of the house, and 
when this gentle prince was taken prisoner at 
Agincourt and confined in the Tower of Lon- 
don, where he whiled away the time by com- 
posing charming poems, Dunois took upon 
himself the task of defending his domains and 
securing his rescue. He had studied with 
Charles, and was far better educated than most 
nobles of his age. Valentine had herself 
directed their studies, and the boys' tutor had 
been the celebrated astrologer, Florent de Vil- 
liers. Dunois was eloquent as a statesman, 
and master of a polished style. He had thought 
of entering the Church until his duty to his 
brother Charles and later on to his country be- 
came evident. Charles, too, deeply loved his 
country as his verses written in captivity 
testify : 

" En regardant vers le pays de France 
Un jour m'avint a Doove sur le mer." 

But he loved it as a poet and an artist, as 
witness the charming poem written after his 
return : 

'* En tirant d 'Orleans a Blois 
L 'autre jour par eau je venoye." 

Dunois was far the stronger nature, and this 



Treasure-Trove 69 

had been recognised by Valentine in his boy- 
hood. His only thought in engaging in the 
war at first was to preserve Orleannais for his 
brother. The department of Eure et Loire, in 
which Chateaudun is situated, formed anciently 
a part of this province, and the town of Cha- 
teaudun was the only one on the right bank of 
the Loire which remained French during the 
Hundred Years' War. Four hundred of its 
men sought Dunois and offered him their serv- 
ices as the representative of their Seigneur. 
They were among the following with which he 
threw himself into the city of Orleans, besieged 
by the English, and held it until the coming of 
Joan of Arc, and were foremost in the first 
brilliant sortie. Dunois placed Joan in com- 
mand, constituting himself her right arm in the 
execution of her orders. The raising of the 
siege of Orleans was the turning-point for 
France. Even the capture of the divine Maid 
did not stagger him. He swept on irresist- 
ibly. At Chartres, he forced the English 
to give up their advance on Paris. In Nor- 
mandy, Rouen, Harfleur, Honfleur, Caen, Fa- 
laise, Cherbourg, surrendered to him. His first 
aim had been achieved, for Charles of Orleans 
had been given up by the English and had 
returned to his princedom. The meeting be- 



^o Feudal Chateaux 

tween the two brothers was most affecting. 
Hitherto Dunois had been known simply as 
Le Batard d 'Orleans, but now his brother 
created him Vicomte of Dunois, and gave him 
as appanage the estates and castle of Chateau- 
dun. Nothing could have better pleased his 
vassals, for they had long given him fealty of 
their own wills, and the old castle, and town as 
well, rang with rejoicing as its new lord en- 
tered its gates. He had won no great battles, 
for he had never had an army of any size at 
his disposal, only the men who owed allegiance 
to Orleans, and those who joined him won by 
his personal magnetism. His career had been 
like that of Du Guesclin, an infinity of small 
victories achieved by his own prowess and 
the devotion of his little band of followers. 
" There was so great a similarity between 
these heroes," said the Vicomte, " that some 
thought that he was Du Guesclin come again. 
Oddly enough, though Du Guesclin's death 
preceded Dunois's birth by a quarter of a 
century, the bit of armour which you noticed 
in my library was a link between them. Du 
Guesclin's widow, though very aged, was living 
when Dunois first became famous, and she sent 
the hero, by her grandson, a corselet which 
had belonged to her husband. It had always 



Treasure-Trove 71 

brought him good fortune, she wrote, and she 
hoped that it might prove a taHsman of success 
for Dunois. 

" Whether the taHsman had anything to do 
with his success we may well doubt, but Dunois 
wore the corselet through his victorious cam- 
paign in Guienne when Montguyon, Blaye, 
Fronsac, Bordeaux, and Bayonne were his, and 
at last France was entirely French, never again 
to be reconquered by the invader. 

" It was Dunois's hour of greatest triumph. 
The King created him Comte de Longueville 
and Prince legitime. Legitimation was the 
boon he had most desired, for it opened the 
way for his marriage with the daughter of 
the Comte de Montgomery. And now, Yseult, 
as there is no one but our own party on this 
side of the chateau, I think the time has come 
for the last verse of the ballad." 

Yseult sang the quaint words very simply : 

"A I'autel de Marie 

lis contractent tous deux 

Cette union cherie 

Qui seule rend heureux. 

Chacun dans la chapelle 

Disaient en les voyant, 

Amour a la plus belle, 

Honneur au plus vaillant." 

As we listened we thought of the splendid 



72 Feudal Chateaux 

record, how for twenty-five years Dunois and 
his men of Chateaudun fought disinterestedly 
for France, and our hearts thrilled as though 
they too were French. 

"He was one of the last of our knights," 
said the Vicomte. " Feudalism was passing 
when he passed. 

" Between the history of Dunois and the le- 
gend of Viviane, between Chateaudun and 
Broecilande a long procession of castles and of 
knights welcomes you to the land of romance. 
Yseult and I will attend you a short distance 
farther on your pilgrimage. I have told you 
the tradition of the grotesque face as it is pre- 
served in our family, but it is far more ancient 
than Du Guesclin's time. Its history must 
embrace the entire feudal period. You have 
read the story backward from the present for a 
little way, and I shall be very glad if you are 
able to trace it to its beginning." 

So we journeyed together, collecting the early 
legends which were told by one story-teller to 
another before they were set down in print or 
writing — stories of wizard or Druid, of ghosts 
and demons, and the adventures of half-mythical 
knights, 

" Aback in the darlingest days of the earth. 
The dear dead days that are lost to sight." 



Treasure-Trove 7z 

In our wanderings we visited many ruins of 
old feudal castles and a few that were faithfully 
preserved or carefully restored. We found 
much treasure of romance and roused many 
an unfamiliar spectre ; and ever and anon 
we caught the gleam of the fiery eyes and the 
sound of the inexplicable footsteps. 

And those who have patience to follow this 
phantom hunt to the finish shall learn how, 
baffled where we had sought most confidently, 
we tracked our game to earth over the vanished 
staircase where we had roused it, and found it 
at last at the Troubadour's Court of Love sum- 
moned by Yseult La Joyeuse. 




CHAPTER II 



ANGERS, THE MOTHER CASTLE 

ONE of the oldest castles in France, in ap- 
pearance as well as in its history, is the 
giant fortress of Angers. Huge and grim, un- 
softened by architectural decoration of any 
kind, it suggests an age of strength and bru- 
tality, of rude assault, cruel torture, and long 
imprisonment, with death the only possible 
deliverer from its relentless duno-eons. 

" She looks the mother castle of all the 
chateaux-forts of France," was Yseult's exclam- 
ation, as we four, Yseult, the Vicomte, the 
artist, and I, drove toward it across the long 
bridge. 

" Those seventeen titanic towers clustered 
about her are her stalwart sons. She is a 

74 



Angers, the Mother Castle 75 

powerful but not altogether an agreeable 
mother, to be dreaded even by her own children, 
merciless in the punishment of their faults as 
well as in the revenge of their wrongs." 

The Vicomte smiled approvingly. " Your 
metaphor is not far wrong, my child, for 
Angers is the mother castle in more than 
mere semblance. You will find the great 
names of the families that have been nursed 
in her arms making themselves and their 
chateaux distinguished in the history of the 
nation. Angers's importance can be realised 
when we learn that she was early considered 
the key of France, and bears for her blazon a 
silver key on a red shield beneath the royal 
lilies : ' de gtteules a la clef d' argent, posd en 
pal au ckef d'aztir charg^ de dezLX Jleurs-de-lys 
d'or' 

" This was not only a strategic point greatly 
to be desired by the foreign invader, as it con- 
trolled the outlet of the rivers of Brittany, and 
by its vassal forts the navigation of the Loire, 
but as a frontier fortress between Brittany, 
Maine, Anjou, and Touraine it was a pivotal 
point for internal warfare between the power- 
ful chiefs of these provinces. 

'' The castle appears older than it really is, 
for the present fortress was built by Philippe 



76 Feudal Chateaux 

Auguste, while one could readily believe that it 
is the stronghold which originally occupied this 
site which was the birthplace of the Foulques 
of Anjou, the far-away ancestors of the Plan- 
tagenets, before they built their new home of 
Chinon, now crumbling into ruin." 

" I do not believe that the Foulques were 
pleasant people," Yseult persisted. " Cer- 
tainly not if their rule was anything like the 
personified gloom with which the castle domin- 
ates the ' Black City.' The influence which 
it exercises is positively sinister. I am sure 
something tragical will happen to us under its 
shadow " — and she shivered as she spoke. 

" It has had its share of tragedy in the 
past," said the Vicomte. "The fate which 
seemed to brood over it must have spent itself, 
and can have no power over us." 

But Yseult was right, the Foulques were not 
agreeable characters ; this the Vicomte himself 
admitted, as he told us their histories. One 
of the least objectionable of the traditions 
preserved of Foulque Nerra, the Black Falcon, 
is that having resigned to his son Geoffrey 
the administration of his countship, and be- 
ing displeased with his son's misconduct of 
it, he made him do several miles crawling 
on the ground with a saddle on his back. 



Angers, the Mother Castle "]"] 

taunting him the while by crying, " Thou'rt 
beaten, thou'rt beaten." 

"Ay, beaten," replied Geoffrey, "but by my 
father only ; to any other I am invincible." 
This reply so pleased the old man that they 
were reconciled on the spot. 

More ghastly was the story of his burning 
his wife at the stake for infidelity, and " lead- 
ing her to her doom dressed in her gayest 
attire." 

In spite of his crimes Foulque Nerra was 
a most remarkable man ; " a consummate gen- 
general, cool-headed, clear-sighted, quick to 
resolve, quicker to strike. At his accession 
in 987, Anjou was the least important of 
the greater provinces of France. At his 
death in 1040, it stood first among them 
all." Brittany, Touraine, a large portion of 
the domain of Blois and Maine, marked the 
full tide of his success, which brought him to 
Normandy. After his death his son found 
himself unable to cope with William the Con- 
queror, but the family still remained so pow- 
erful that the son of William was glad to 
placate it by giving his daughter, Maud, to 
Geoffrey, and from the union of these two 
remarkable lines sprang the Plantagenets. 

Foulque Rechin, the Brawler, married Ber- 



78 Feudal Chateaux 

trarde de Monfort, of the ducal family of Brit- 
tany (and we shall meet with the de Monforts 
aorain and a^ain in our wanderings throug^h 
the history and the land of France), but this 
marriage was not a happy one, for the King, 
Philip I., fell passionately in love with this 
Countess of Anjou, and with her connivance 
caused her to be seized and carried away by 
his people, whom he had left in the neighbour- 
hood of the castle. 

For twelve years he openly defied the Pope, 
who bade him return Bertrarde, and jeered at 
his excommunication. " It was the custom," 
says William of Malmesbury, " at the places 
where the King sojourned, for divine service to 
be stopped, and as soon as he was moving 
away all the bells began to peal. And then 
Philip would cry, as he laughed like one 
beside himself, ' Dost hear, my love, how 
they are ringing us out ?' " 

At length the guilty couple took a vow 
to separate and " to hold no intercourse 
or companionship," and were released from 
excommunication. Bertrarde, however, still 
maintained her position as nominal queen. 
Two years later the King and Queen were 
the guests of Foulque in his castle. 

Vital, the most complete of the chroniclers 



Angers, the Mother Castle 79 

of this time, says of this extraordinary meet- 
ing of Bertrarde's two husbands: "This cle- 
ver woman had by her skilful management 
so perfectly reconciled these two rivals, that 
she made them a splendid feast and got them 
both to sit at the same table." 
The Abbe Serger adds : 

" This sprightly and rarely accomplished woman, well 
versed in the art, familiar to her sex, of holding captive 
the husbands they have outraged, had acquired such an 
empire over her first husband, the Count of Anjou, in 
spite of the affront she had put upon him by deserting 
him, that he treated her with homage as his sovereign, 
often sat upon a stool at her feet, and obeyed her wishes 
by a sort of enchantment." 

Two bridges cross the river Maine at An- 
gers. One is called the Pont de la Haute 
Chaine, the other the Pont de la Basse Chaine. 
They take their name from two great chains 
which were stretched across the river at these 
points in feudal times, to obstruct hostile navi- 
gation, and to protect the Black City, which 
was comprised between these limits, huddled 
beneath the walls of the castle. Standingf on 
the lower bridge to-day and looking up at the 
colossal towers with walls twelve feet in thick- 
ness, and, though truncated, still seventy feet 
in height, we could scarcely resist the impres- 
sion that they were still the home of the 



8o Feudal Chateaux 

Foulques, so much has this stupendous fortress 
in common with that formidable family. 

Our garrulous guide would have had us 
believe that this very structure was the home 
of the Foulques, and of the prehistoric kings 
of western Gaul. He led us to the old Tour 
du Diable, solemnly declaring that the Em- 
press Ermengarde died here while visiting her 
aunt, the sister of Charlemagne. 

The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders. 
" Hardly in this tower," he said to us, " though 
the Empress really died at Angers while her 
husband, Louis le Debonnaire, the son of 
Charlemagne, was fighting near this spot with 
Morvan, the last of the Celtic kings. Roland, 
too, the hero of Roncesvalles, was born here, 
but the castle of their time antedated that of 
the Foulques. There can hardly be any ves- 
tiges of it in the present structure." 

" Pardon, Monsieur," said the guide respect- 
fully but firmly, " that tower is far older than 
Morvan. It was a part of the palace of his 
ancestors, the early Celtic kings. King Ar- 
thur gave it to Merlin. See, on the outside 
you can trace the vestiges of the staircase by 
which he used to come and go without passing 
through the palace, or being challenged by the 
guards. After he went away to his invisible 



Angers, the Mother Castle 8i 

chateau in the Forest of Broecilande, the stair- 
case was removed, lest some enemy might 
steal in. But they say," here the guide 
dropped his voice mysteriously, "that on 
certain nights Merlin comes just the same, 
and his footsteps are heard pattering up and 
down where no staircase is." 

" Nonsense ! " snapped the Vicomte crustily ; 
** who retails such falsehoods ? " 

" My belle-mere, Monsieur. She went to the 
convent school and learned them of the nuns,, 
so they are all true. If Monsieur will come 
to our house this afternoon — it is back of the 
little chocolate-shop near the cathedral — Ici 
belle-mlre will tell you all of the old legends of 
Angers over the best cup of chocolate to be 
found in France." 

Of course I took the bait and the chocolate. 
My husband, the artist of our company, had 
decided to make a sketch of the old tower. 
Yseult also settled herself with pencil and 
paper in a corner of the bastion, but it was not 
to sketch. She was always writing letters 
whenever opportunity was afforded — letters 
which were addressed to Monsieur Louis 
Rondel, the young architect, who was visiting 
at Chateau La Joyeuse, but who had not been 
invited by the Vicomte to accompany us in 



82 Feudal Chateaux 

this driving tour, though he had expressed 
great interest in the feudal chateaux. 

As the Vicomte passed with me out of the 
castle gate, I caught sight within the lodge of 
a familiar figure. What could have brought 
Louis Rondel to Anders ? 

I did not think it necessary to stop then and 
there and investigate, or to draw the Vicomte's 
attention to the presence of the young man. 
He would easily find Yseult upon the ram- 
parts, and they could endure the Vicomte's 
absence for an hour or so. How amusing it 
would be to banter Yseult about her premon- 
ition of evil doom to happen at Angers ! 

The Vicomte escorted me to the little choc- 
olate-shop, but he did not enter ; and he 
warned me as he left that la belle-mhres tales 
would probably prove most unreliable. Then, 
courteously promising to call for me in an 
hour, he passed under that cathedral portal 
crowned by so many statues of chivalric figures, 
his own, as it seemed to me, as worthy as any 
there to wear knightly armour. He bore his 
sixty-five years lightly ; his head was white, but 
he carried it erect save when he bowed it to 
woman, or, as now, at the shrine of his religion. 

La belle-7neres chocolate was high-priced 
and poor, but la belle-mere herself was im- 



Angers, the Mother Castle 83 

mense, and this term may be understood both 
Hterally and figuratively, for physically she 
was elephantine, and as a story-teller excep- 
tionally endowed, accompanying her mono- 
logue with expressive gestures which gave to 
the legends a vividness not to be conveyed by 
cold type. ^ 

THE MOTHER CASTLE'S FIRST HERO 

One of the early lords of Angers was Milon, 
a Celtic chief. He married Berthe, the sister 
of Charlemagne, having the good sense not to 
contend against the invincible power of the 
Emperor. They had two children : a son, 
Roland, and a daughter, Fleur d'Epine (or 
Briar Rose), so named because the pink eglan- 
tine which tapestried the garden side of the 
walls of Angers was not more delicate than 
her lovely face. 

Though Berthe was a Christian, Milon was 
a follower of the old Druidical religion. The 
paganism of the Romans, only half believed by 
themselves, had made no converts in Brittany. 
The Bretons are an earnest people, and were 
either frankly savages or Christians. Besides, 

' I have emended la belle-mere's early history of the hero of 
Roncesvalles, by the introduction here and there of incidents related 
in Mr. Baldwin's painstaking collation of myths bearing upon the 
story of Roland. 



84 Feudal Chateaux 

Druidism was the patriotic religion, and it was 
like betraying one's country for a Breton to 
give it up, Milon kept hidden, in the topmost 
chamber of that tower of the castle which is 
now called the Tour du Diable, a Druid priest 
greatly venerated in this region, but con- 
demned to death by the laws of Charlemagne. 
On certain nicrhts his followers met him amone 
the dolmens and merlins of the Morbihan, 
and once a year it was said a human sacrifice 
took place. 

The Druid's name was Maugis ; he was also 
a powerful enchanter, and had either been a 
pupil of Merlin and knew the way through the 
Forest of Brcecilande to the enchanted castle 
where Merlin was held a prisoner, where he 
received his counsels, or, as more believed, he 
was Merlin's avatar or second incarnation, and 
the staircase which led to Maugis's study is 
still called Merlin's Stairs. 

He cast Roland's horoscope on his birth, 
and had assured Milon that the babe would 
become a great hero, for in his form was the 
soul of great Hector of Troy. 

Milon was delighted, for he was himself of 
Greek oriorin, througrh an ancestor who had 
been shipwrecked several centuries before on 
the Breton coast. 



Angers, the Mother Castle 85 

** Roland must go in search of Hector's 
armour," said Merlin, "for if Hector's sword 
is ever held in Roland's hand it will be in- 
vincible." 

"That shall be his first adventure," said 
Milon, " but until he is of age I will teach him 
the use of arms, and his mother the lore of 
books." So Roland grew up in the grim 
castle, a lonely life but for his little sister 
Fleur d'Epine, and his friend Olivier, and his 
friend's sister, "la belle Aude." 

Roland learned more than the lore of books 
from his mother, for he became a Christian, 
and gentle of manners. One day he confided 
to his mother that he loved Aude and desired 
her blessing. 

" Is it so soon ? " Berthe replied ; " then it is 
time that you started on your adventures, for 
love is not to be won except by high emprise." 
And she asked her husband to send Roland to 
the court of his uncle, the great Charlemagne, 
that he might be made a knight. 

That night Milon led Roland with him up 
the Stairs of Merlin to Maugis, told him of his 
resolve to send Roland to Charlemagne, and 
desired the enchanter to provide him with a 
suit of magic armour. 

"That can I not do personally," said Mau- 



86 Feudal Chateaux 

gis, "but Morgan le Fay is a friend of mine. 
She is the fairy men call Good Luck. If she 
takes a fancy to Roland she will arm him, and 
he will always be fortunate." 

Maugis sat down at a lectern, and began to 
read from a book of enchantment which had 
been written by Merlin. One of the proper- 
ties of the book was that the person who read 
in it knew all that he wished on any subject, 
but if he read aloud all who listened fell into 
a magic sleep and dreamed whatever the 
reader listed. 

Maugis allowed Roland to read the direc- 
tions to the Forest of Broecilande, in which 
was the palace of Morgan le Fay. Roland 
went away upon his adventure, but returned 
without the arms. 

" Did you not find Morgan le Fay ? " asked 
Maugis. 

" Oh yes," Roland replied, " I found her 
palace very easily, and found her, too, in her 
enchanted garden, where rubies, amethysts, 
and other precious gem stones grow instead of 
flowers. She is very tiny, and she was dancing 
and singing when I entered the garden. I sat 
down to look at her and she danced all around 
me; sometimes she pirouetted on my knee; I 
could have caught her very easily, but I feared 



Angers, the Mother Castle 87 

to injure her gauzy wings with my great hand. 
I wanted, too, to make out the words of her 
song. At length she poised upon my shoulder 
and sang it in my ear : 

' Seekest thou gifts from Morgan le Fay ? 
Seize her, seize her, while you may ! 
Once, and only once, men say, 
To everyone she shows the way — 
Fortune's a fickle fairy.' 

" Then I sprang up and tried to catch her, 
but — whirr I she danced away, out of the gar- 
den, through the wood, over a bog in which I 
sank, and from which I had great trouble -in 
extricating myself. Then I found myself 
before the door of a castle, and when I 
knocked and inquired if Morgan le Fay was 
there, a hideous old hag came out and beat 
me with a whip of knotted cords. I could 
easily have killed her, but she was so old I 
would not lift my hand against her, though I 
remonstrated and said, * Mother, why do you 
punish me thus ? ' And she replied : ' I am Re- 
pentance. I scourge everyone who through 
cowardice or carelessness neglects to seize the 
fairy fortune at his one golden opportunity. 
Go away ; you will never be lucky. Every 
good thing that you obtain will have to be 



88 Feudal Chateaux 

worked for and fought for, well deserved and 
dearly earned.' " 

Maugis looked at the youth sadly but kindly, 
and again opened Merlin's book of enchant- 
ment. 

"I learn here," he said, "that the witch 
spoke the truth, but there are those who 
wrestle with evil fortune and overcome it ; and 
they are stronger than those who have every- 
thing given them without their exertion. I 
had hoped that Morgan le Fay would give 
thee a suit of magical armour that would keep 
thee unscathed, but thou must go out to thy 
battles unprotected, and many a wound and 
bruise wilt thou receive, with defeat at times 
and imprisonment. Thy lot is no better than 
that of any ordinary mortal, excepting as thou 
canst make it better by thine own undaunted 
spirit." 

And Roland answered : " Right glad am I 
that it is so, for there is no zest in striving 
when the victory is assured, and I am not 
afraid." 

" There are other things to fear besides 
buffets in battle," said Maugis. " Thou wilt 
meet not only knights but ladies, and ladies 
are often the more dangerous. Thou hast no 
shield to protect thee against the swords of 



Angers, the Mother Castle 89 

the knights or the charms of false women." 

'^ Nenni, but that I have," Roland contra- 
dicted. " La Belle Aude has given me this 
scarf of sarcenet to wear as her favour. I will 
tie it about my eyes and stuff the ends in my 
ears, for beauty can have no temptation to a 
blind man, nor the song of the siren enter deaf 
ears." 

"It is well," said Maugis ; "and I give thee 
here the golden spurs of King Arthur, and 
will provide thee with an enchanted horse 
which will take thee swiftly out of all peril, 
outstripping every foe, even the last enemy. 
Death, for it is his ' pale horse ' which I shall 
steal when next he comes to our yearly sacri- 
fice. Mounted on that courser he will never 
be able to overtake thee, and thou shalt never 
die, but be changed from one hero to another. 
This steed I will give thee on one condition." 

" What is that ? " asked Roland. 

"That thou abjure the Christian religion." 

" Never ! " 

" Then at last thou must die, and leave this 
beautiful earth. In thy hour of mortal agony 
remember that the Christian religion is one of 
death, and thou mightest have been immortal." 

" Nay," Roland replied ; " it is by dying that 
I shall become so." 



90 Feudal Chateaux 

Maugis was offended, for it is hard to have 
gifts scorned and requests denied, even by 
those we love. When at the next Druidical 
sacrifice, while Death claimed his victim, Mau- 
gis secured the " pale horse," and carried it 
not to the stables of Angers, but to those of 
Duke Aymon of Dordogne, who had four sons 
that Maugis loved almost as much as he loved 
Roland. 

So Roland set out for Charlemagne's court 
without sword or armour and on foot, like a 
simple palmer. 

But when Charlemagne saw him and knew 
that he was his sister's son, he loved him, and 
made him one of his paladins, and Defender of 
the Marches of Brittany. And he dubbed him 
knight and took him into his own armory to 
arm him, and Roland had great admiration for 
the emperor's sword, " Monjoie." " But this," 
said his uncle, " I cannot give thee. It was 
forged from the spearhead which pierced our 
Saviour's side. Monjoie it is, and its name is 
my rallying-cry in battle. But here is another 
sword which I won at a tournament from the 
Emperor of Constantinople. Its name is Du- 
randal. This I have never carried, for I have 
sworn to use no sword but Monjoie, and it 
has hung idle in my armory. See, it bears 



Angers, the Mother Castle 91 

damascened upon its blade the device, ' I am 
Durandal, which Trojan Hector wore.' " 

When Roland heard that he uttered a cry 
of delight. " It is that sword above all others 
that I desire," he cried, ** for my father has told 
me that if I can obtain it I will do great deeds." 

" That doubt I not," said the Emperor, " but 
this sword is not to be given — it is to be won. 
See, it bears upon the reverse of the blade, 
' Let honour be to him who most deserveth 
it.' I will make it the prize of a tournament. 
Earn it if thou canst." 

Then Roland was cast down, for he knew 
that the most valorous knights would fight for 
Durandal, and he was in nowise puffed up as 
to his own prowess. " I shall do my best," he 
said, "and there is no disgrace in failure when 
one has done that." 

"There is no disgrace in such failure," re- 
peated the Emperor, " but neither is there 
guerdon, and unless thou win, thou gettest not 
Durandal." 

Now Roland had no sword with which to 
fight, and the Emperor bade him borrow a 
sword where he could, since it was his ambi- 
tion not to own one until he had earned 
it. Ogier, the Dane, was the most renowned 
knight at the court, and he loved Roland, and 



92 Feudal Chateaux 

said to him : " I shall not strive in this tourna- 
ment, for I am past the age which the King 
has set. Take thou my sword ; it is short 
but strong." Roland took it very gratefully, 
and read the inscription on the blade : " I am 
Cortana the Short. He who has the rio-ht 
on his side need not fear the mieht of the 
wrong-doer." 

Although Charlemagne had decided that 
Roland should earn his armour, wearinof 
none in the tournament, but assuming that 
of the knight whom he overthrew, he was not 
utterly without interest in his nephew ; and 
since he had made the conditions so hard for 
him, he determined to supply him with one 
proof of his affection and he offered him a 
horn that had belonged to Charles Martel, 
beautifully engraved and inlaid with gold, and 
cunningly constructed from the horn of an 
unicorn. But no one since Charles Martel 
had been able to sound it. " Blow it," said 
the Emperor, thinking to amuse himself with 
Roland's failure. Roland blew a blast of such 
sonorous strength and sweetness that it was 
heard all over France. " Keep the horn," said 
Charlemagne, " but do not blow it again unless 
thou art in direst need, when I will not fail to 
come to thy succour." 



Angers, the Mother Castle 93 

Roland's fancy was also greatly taken by 
a cuirass adorned with a bronze face which 
reminded him strongly of his friend Maugis. 
" I would give thee that cuirass," said the 
Emperor, "were it not that it brings ill fort- 
une to the wearer. It also belonged to 
Charles Martel ; it was taken from the body 
of a Moorish prince whom he slew at the bat- 
tle of Tours, and everyone who has worn it 
has been slain in battle. Better were it for 
thee to go to thine encounter unprotected 
than to wear that evil thine." 

But Roland still craved the cuirass. " It is 
written," he said, "that I shall have no help 
from Fortune, but neither fear I her tricks. 
An undaunted and a pure heart cannot be 
harmed by her, even though he fight without 
her help." 

Thus besought, Charlemagne gave him the 
cuirass, and, as you will see, it brought him no 
ill luck. On the first day that he wore it La 
Belle Aude came to Paris with her brother to 
witness the tournament, and her betrothal 
with Roland was approved by the Emperor. 
Charlemagne also determined to provide 
his nephew with a mount worthy of a 
prince, and he therefore announced that a 
horse-race would take place before the 



94 Feudal Chateaux 

tournament, offering a magnificent prize for 
the winner. 

Duke Aymon was in disgrace, through no 
fault of his, and he and his sons had been 
banished from court ; but when Guichard, the 
youngest of the four, heard of this race he 
determined to attend in disguise and compete 
with the horse Bayard, which Maugis had 
given them. All the knights of France flocked 
to the tournament, and the most celebrated 
horses in the world were entered for the race. 

Among the distinguished guests were the 
Prince and Princess of Cathay, Argalia and 
his sister Angelica. They had come with evil 
intent, to conquer all of Charlemagne's knights, 
Argalia by the help of an enchanted spear^ 
and Angelica by her marvellous beauty. 

Argalia took no part in the races, but as 
they sat among the spectators his sister was 
the observed of all observers, and many could 
not fix their attention upon the horses for the 
rival attraction of her beautiful eyes. Even 
Roland forgot to bind his eyes with the scarf 
of La Belle Aude, but sat gazing upon Angelica 
as one spellbound, as indeed he was. Gui- 
chard himself, as he rode up on Bayard, looked 
at her and not at the goal, and he would surely 
have lost the race if his own conduct of his 



Angers, the Mother Castle 95 

steed had had anything to do with the resuh. 
But the enchanted horse needed no jockey 
and gained every course. 

Charlemagne was deHghted with the animal 
and determined to purchase him for Roland. 
He sent for the owner, who rode up to the 
steps of the dais, and demanded the price of 
this wonderful horse. 

" He is not for sale," the young man replied 
proudly, " and I am Guichard, son of Aymon, 
who contemns thy riches and defies thy pow- 
er." So saying he struck spurs into Bayard 
and vanished before he could be seized. 

Charlemagne was furious. "As soon as the 
tournament is over," he said, "we will march 
to Montauban and destroy these traitors and 
their nest." 

Guichard had not gone far, for he was too 
much fascinated by the Princess of Cathay. 
He concealed Bayard and re-entered the city 
and was among the spectators of the tourna- 
ment. 

Roland did wonders. He overcame every 
knight until the Prince of Cathay challenged 
_him and then his very misfortune was his good 
luck. As he had no lance Charlemagne de- 
cided that the Prince must meet Roland on 
equal terms, and fight with the sword. The 



96 Feudal Chateaux 

Prince had struck down everyone whom he 
touched with his enchanted lance in the melee 
which preceded the single combats. He had 
expected to use the same weapon, but he 
could not withdraw from his challenge or gain- 
say the decree of the Emperor, and he met 
Roland in a duel with swords, hoping that as 
his own was much the longer he would be able 
to keep Roland at such a distance that he could 
not touch him. The Princess, too, who had 
made herself most radiantly fascinating, sat 
directly in front of Roland, expecting to dis- 
tract his gaze. But Roland had bound his 
lady's favour about his head, in lieu of a hel- 
met, and it slipped down over his eyes. Sar- 
cenet is the finest silk gauze, and he could 
see his antagonist through it, while it blinded 
him to the charms of the Princess. Argalia 
brought his scimitar down upon the head of 
Roland with both hands, expecting to cleave 
his skull, but the gauze scarf deflected the 
blow harmlessly to one side, and at that in- 
stant Roland made a lungfe which buried Cor- 
tana in the heart of Arealia. 

When the Princess saw that her brother was 
dead, she fled from the lists and from the city. 
Guichard ran after her, and at the city gate 
offered to take her where she would on his 



Angers, the Mother Castle 97 

horse Bayard, who was used to carrying double 
and even quadruple. 

"Take me to Merlin's Stairs," said the Prin- 
cess, " for I would fain consult his book of 
enchantment, which is in the possession of 
Maugis, the Druid wizard." 

Straight to the castle of Angers flew Bay- 
ard with Guichard and the Princess. Arrived 
at the stair, Guichard waited with his bridle 
over his arm while the Princess mounted to 
the tower to consult Maugis. Guichard was 
heated and thirsty, the sun beat down upon 
him, and seeing a little wood near by, he 
fastened his horse at the foot of the tower and 
wandered into the forest in quest of water. 
He soon found a fountain and drank copiously 
without knowing that its waters had the magic 
power of making every man forget his former 
love and thereafter love only the next maiden 
whom he happened to meet. It so chanced 
that Fleur d'Epine, the sister of Roland, had 
from her window seen Guichard enter the 
wood, had mistaken him for her brother, and 
had followed him. As Guichard returned to 
the tower he met Fleur d'Epine, and his heart 
was for ever hers. She saw at once that he 
was not Roland, but divining that he came 
from the court, she asked news of her brother. 



9^ Feudal Chateaux 

and Gulchard told her of Roland's prowess at 
the tournament, and how he had won the 
sword Durandal. 

" And the race," she asked, "that he wrote 
us of, tell me of that." 

" Oh, the race was no great matter," Gui- 
chard replied modestly. " I chanced to win it, 
but that was no credit to me but to my horse." 

" He must be a noble animal," said Fleur 
d'Epine ; " I should like to see him." 

" That you shall," replied Guichard, " and 
ride. upon him too," for he had quite forgotten 
the Princess of Cathay, and was very much 
astonished to see her come from the tower at 
that moment and spring upon Bayard's back. 

When the Princess surprised Maugis in 
his study, he had at once suspected her of 
some evil intent, and had opened his book of 
enchantment, sure of finding within it all the 
information in reg^ard to her which he wished. 
He read only far enough to know that she 
would exercise a pernicious influence over 
Roland, when the Princess spoke to him in so 
sweet a tone that he looked up from his read- 
ing. Her beauty immediately fascinated him, 
and when she requested him to allow her to 
look within his book for a moment, Maugis 
immediately handed it to her, and the Princess 



Angers, the Mother Castle 99 

read what she had come to ascertain, — that the 
only way to fascinate Roland was to take from 
him the scarf of La Belle Aude, with which he 
stopped his ears and blinded his eyes to her 
blandishments. The Princess read this aloud, 
and as she read a deep sleep fell upon Maugis, 
and she closed the book, came down the 
stair, and mounted Bayard. As she did so 
Guichard came up and, as he had forgotten that 
he ever loved her, ordered her very rudely to 
dismount. The Princess's only answer was to 
strike him across the face with her riding-whip, 
and to give rein to Bayard. Guichard clung 
to her, endeavouring to drag her from the sad- 
dle, but not succeeding in this attempt, was 
carried away by her, greatly to the astonish- 
ment and grief of Fleur d'Epine. 

As the Princess and Guichard tore on they 
were met by Roland riding on Brigliadoro, the 
horse which he had won from Argalia, and 
wearing his armour, with Durandal at his side. 
He was returning to Angers to show these 
glories to his family. The Princess cried out 
as she passed that Guichard was carrying her 
away, and Roland, always ready to heed the 
cry of woman in distress, turned and followed, 
callinof to Guichard to hold. He could never 
have overtaken Bayard had not the Princess 



loo Feudal Chateaux 

reined him in ; but as she did so he caught up 
easily and pulled Guichard from the horse. 
At the same time the Princess snatched at the 
scarf which fluttered from his helm, and con- 
cealed it in her bosom. Guichard insisted 
that the Princess's charges were false, but Ro- 
land, looking her straight in the eyes, felt his 
heart fall from its allegiance and his senses 
waver. Instinctively his hand sought the pro- 
tecting scarf, but he fancied he had lost it as 
he rode, and he continued to gaze, fascinated 
by her beauty. The Princess smiled, held out 
her hand, and rode on, and Roland followed, 
for he was mad — insane like many another 
good man for the love of an unworthy woman. 
Many and strange adventures were his while 
this frenzy lasted, but they have naught to do 
with the castle of Angers. At last this mad- 
ness passed and Roland ceased to be his own 
shadow, and returned to France to La Belle 
Aude, whose forgiveness he received. 

As for Guichard, when he was pulled from 
his horse by Roland he wended his way to his 
brothers' castle of Montauban,, which shortly 
after was besieged by Charlemagne. Induced 
by treachery to leave the castle Guichard was 
taken prisoner, and when Roland, arrived he 
had been ordered to be hung. But Roland 



Angers, the Mother Castle loi 

protested with Charlemagne against such in- 
justice, vowing that if the order were carried 
out he would renounce his allegiance, go to the 
brothers, ask them to receive him in the stead 
of their brother, allow him to take the name 
of Guichard, and thenceforward share their 
fate. 

The Emperor's heart was softened and he 
ordered that Roland should have the care of 
Guichard, who should simply be kept as a 
hostage for the loyalty of his brothers. Ro- 
land took his prisoner home to Angers (the 
spot above all others where Guichard most 
desired to be), and there entertained him as a 
guest. Fleur d'Epine showed her brother the 
bronze face which had fallen from his armour 
at the time of his struggle with Guichard when 
the madness for the Princess of Cathay came 
over him. It had been found and brought to 
the castle, but Roland had lost his fancy for it, 
perhaps because it reminded him of his frenzy, 
and he never wore it again. When he was 
summoned to accompany Charlemagne on his 
campaign against the Saracens in Spain, Gui- 
chard begged to be allowed to go with him, 
but this was not permitted, and he remained 
at Angers, the prisoner of love and of Fleur 
d'Epine. Angers knew the brave Roland no 



I02 Feudal Chateaux 

more, but after Roland's death the Emperor 
pardoned Guichard and he married Fleur 
d'Epine, and became Lord of Angers and 
Warden of the Marches of Brittany. 

La belle-mere had ended her story, and 
I asked her eagerly to tell me more of the 
strange ornament which had once formed a 
part of Roland's armour. "It was a mali- 
cious face, t7'-es malzn" she had heard, "with 
eyes of precious gem-stones, red and fiery." I 
was struck by her words, they so exactly de- 
scribed the curio in the library at Chateau La 
Joyeuse, but la belle-mere could not tell what 
had become of the ornament. It had been 
hidden by Maugis, but none knew where, cer- 
tainly not at Angers. 

I was convinced, however, that the objects 
were identical, and was eager to find the miss- 
ing links in the history. 

The after-story of Roland, heroic and brief, 
is immortalised in the Chanson de Roland, 
with which Taillefer, the minstrel of William 
the Conqueror, cheered on the Normans at the 
battle of Hastings. Eginhard, the authentic 
historian of the period, tells us only that in 
the year 778, the rear-guard of Charlemagne's 
army was attacked in the Pyrenees : " There 



Angers, the Mother Castle 103 

took place a fight in which the French were 
killed to a man and Roland, Prefect of the 
Marches of Brittany, fell in this engage- 
ment." 

There exists a quaint but evidently fictitious 
chronicle which Bishop Turpin, a comrade of 
Roland's, is supposed, as an eye-witness, to 
have dictated, when found dying upon the 
field of Roncesvalles. In the quotation which 
follows, Roland's bombastic address to his 
sword is greatly shortened : 

" Charlemagne now began his march through the pass 
of the mountains, giving the command of the rear to 
his nephew Roland and to Oliver, Count of Auvergne, 
ordering them to keep the pass at Ronceval while he 
passed it with the rest of his army. When he had safely 
passed the narrow strait with twenty thousand of his 
warriors, with Turpin the Archbishop, while the rear 
kept guard, Marsir and Beligard (Moorish leaders), rush- 
ing down from the hills, where they had lain two days 
in ambush, smote it until scarcely one escaped. Some 
were transpierced with lances, some killed with clubs 
or battered with stones. Only Roland, Baldwin, and 
Theodoric were left ; the last two gained the woods and 
finally escaped." 

Here Roland drew his sword Durandal, 
which he would no sooner have parted with 
than have lost his arm, and addressed it in 
these words : 



I04 Feudal Chateaux 

" ' O sword of unparallelled brightness, admirable tem- 
per, and hilt of the whitest ivory decorated with a 
splendid cross of gold, topped by a berylline apple 
engraved with the sacred name of God, endued with 
keenness and every other virtue, who now shall wield 
thee in battle, who shall call thee master ? Thus do I 
prevent thy falling into the hands of the Saracens.' So 
saying, he struck a block of marble twice and cleft it to 
the midst and broke the sword in twain. 

" He now blew a loud blast with his horn. This horn 
was endued with such power that all other horns split 
by its sound ; and at this time Roland blew with such 
force that he burst the veins and nerves of his neck. 
Charlemagne heard the sound eight miles away, but the 
false traitor Ganalon persuaded him that Roland had 
used it only in hunting. 

" Roland offered his confession, and then his soul 
winged its flight from his body, and was borne by angels 
to Paradise, where he reigns with transcendent glory, 
-united by his meritorious deeds to the blessed choir of 
martyrs." 

Lone after la belle-mere had finished her 
recital I waited for the Vicomte, but at last 
it was my husband who came for me. I 
knew at once that something had happened. 
" What is it ? " I asked, as we walked to- 
ward the inn together. 

" Only that Rondel arrived just after you 
left." 

" I know it. Yseult was surely not dis- 
pleased ? " 



Angers, the Mother Castle 105 

" Yseult ! perhaps not, but when the Vi- 
comte came back and found them chatting 
together there was a drop in the temperature 
of the surrounding atmosphere. I distinctly 
regretted that I had left my overcoat in the 
carriage. You should have seen the Vicomte ; 
he was magnificent. He is not so tall as our 
friend the architect, but he straightened him- 
self until he fairly towered. ' Will Monsieur 
have the kindness to enlighten me as to the 
business which gives me the honour of this 
interview ? ' 

"He might very easily have replied that the 
castle of Angers was free to any tourist of an 
inquiring mind, but R.ondel was even more 
self-controlled than the Vicomte. ' I came, 
Monsieur,' he said, ' to deliver this paper into 
your own hands.' 

" ' I do not understand,' said the Vicomte 
haughtily. 

" ' Permit me then to say that after you left 
Chateau La Joyeuse, I was sitting with the 
Vicomtesse in the library, when we heard a 
strange sound of footsteps just outside the 
door. The Vicomtesse seemed much an- 
noyed, and said she would be grateful if I 
could ascertain what caused the sound. I 
studied over the noises for an entire day and 



io6 Feudal Chateaux 

at length, while scrutinising the wall from the 
outside, became convinced that they were 
caused by ravens tapping their beaks against 
the metal roof of the turret. There was a 
small opening in this roof and I judged that 
the birds, which were wheeling about the 
tower, had nests within. I had a ladder 
brought ; mounted, and thrusting my arm 
inside the opening, cleared the interior space 
of the nests, Amongfst the rubbish I found 
this document. Its address was so peculiar 
that I decided to say nothing about it to the 
Vicomtesse, but to bring it to you.' 

" The Vicomte hardly noticed the paper. 
' Are you sure,' he asked, * that the explana- 
tion which you give me of those strange foot- 
falls is the correct one ? ' 

"'I think so,' replied Rondel; 'I had the 
opening in the roof closed and feel confident 
that you will have no more annoyance from 
that quarter.' 

"'In that case,' said the Vicomte, 'I am 
certainly greatly indebted to you. But,' and 
here he glanced keenly at Yseult, * I have de- 
cided not to have the chapel restored, so that 
there will be no occasion for you to make any 
further drawings. Be good enough to send 
me a memorandum of my Indebtedness to 



Angers, the Mother Castle 107 

you. If we have any further need of your 
very able services I will communicate with 
you.' 

" Rondel bowed ceremoniously, and turned 
with an appealing look to Yseult, who was 
very white. ' My father has explained,' she 
said, faintly ; ' you will hear from us,' and 
then, with a silent gesture of farewell to the 
young architect, read aloud the address upon 
the yellowed envelope. 

" ' What a strange inscription ! ' she ex- 
claimed. " To the Vicomte La Joyeuse, to be 
read by him when he returns to this accursed 
house, orloatinor over the belief that he is not 
made of the same clay as ordinary men, and 
congratulating himself that the vengeance of 
God has swept by, and has not found him." ' 

"'What mad utterance is this?' the Vi- 
comte asked, taking the paper from Yseult's 
hands. ' It bears the very date of the burning 
of the chateau, on that night of terror. It is 
doubtless the insane threat of the mob, infuri- 
ated at finding that my ancestor had escaped. 
"And until the day of retribution," this cheer- 
ful paper continues, " may demons guard this 
paper, keeping watch within his home, listen- 
ing at his door, patrolling his stairs, and await- 
ing the right moment to pour upon him the 



io8 Feudal Chateaux 

vial of wrath which it is now permitted him to 
unseal." ' 

" ' Do not open the paper,' Yseult begged ; 
' I am sure it is something horrible.' 

" ' I shall certainly read it,' the Vicomte re- 
plied loftily; 'no La Joyeuse has ever known 
fear. It is not, however, necessary to take 
these gentlemen into our family confidences.' 
He drew Yseult's arm within his own, and, 
flourishing the paper lightly, he led her away 
with him. 

** I had a long talk with Rondel before he 
left, and I like the fellow. He is an Ameri- 
can as you know, but with French ancestry 
away back somewhere, and he would gladly 
settle in France, for he is independent finan- 
cially, and so far as family ties are concerned. 
He loves Yseult with all his heart, and though 
he has not declared himself, the old Vicomte 
evidently understands the situation. Rondel 
also perfectly comprehends that he is dismissed. 
* I have been living in a fool's paradise,' he 
said to me. * I might have known that it 
would end in this way ; but theoretically there 
are no class distinctions in France to-day, and 
the Vicomte seemed so friendly and unassum- 
inof I had no idea that the caste feelinof was 
such a strong instinct with him ; but I suppose 



Angers, the Mother Castle 109 

it is bred in the bone. There is no hope, for 
the Vicomte and Vicomtesse will never change. 
It is not their fault — they were born so.' " 

I was not sure that all was hopeless. 
The Vicomte had often referred with pride to 
his "American ancestor" who fought for our 
liberties, and in speaking of rank had said 
(rather sadly it is true) : " There is no such 
thing as rank left in France. ' La pluie a 
passd I' sponge sur les couleurs de mon 
blazon.' " It would better rain more violently, 
I thought viciously, and entirely efface such 
distinctions. I was sure that Yseult loved the 
young man, and I determined to bring what- 
ever influence I might have to bear upon the 
Vicomte. 

The opportunity was not afforded me. The 
Vicomte and Yseult dined in their own room, 
and when we came down to breakfast we found 
a little note awaiting us written by Yseult but 
dictated by her father : 

" The Vicomte Raouel Aimeri Claude de 
La Joyeuse regrets that the state of his 
health renders it imperative that he should re- 
turn home immediately. He has the honour 
to wish Monsieur and Madame a pleasant 
journey." 

In a corner, half blotted by a tear, Yseult 



no Feudal Chateaux 

had added — ''' Priez poitr moiy It was Hke 
the legend added to the formal announcement 
of a death, and it filled me with irresistible 
longing to fold the dear child in my arms and 
whisper comfort and hope — but they had left 
an hour before. 



CHAPTER III 

A CASTLE OF THE SEA 

'T was springtime in the bright, warm month of May 

As I, half dreaming, near the close of day, 

Heard o'er the water, while it rose and fell, 

The soft vibration of a distant bell ; 

And as I listened, so it seemed to me, 

The mingled cries of stifled agony, 

And sobbing sounds, like children when they weep, 

Went upwards from the bosom of the deep. 

I rose up wondering what those sounds might be 

That reached me thus upon the lonely sea, 

And looking o'er the boat saw down below, 

In the clear water where the seaweeds grow, 

What seemed the ruins of some temple old. 

Whose buttressed towers the waving plants enfold, 

And columns high, and arches reaching wide. 

Spread out in ordered form on every side. 

My ancient oarsman now had ceased to row, 
And pointing to the wonders down below 



112 Feudal Chateaux 

Said when the sprmg tides came, in days gone by, 
That he had seen a tower left partly dry. 
But now the sea had slowly pressed its way, 
Sweeping all things beneath its cruel sway. 
And always covering now the highest walls 
Of those strange towers and desolated halls. 
I learnt from him all facts that he could tell, 
And many legends that he knew as well. 
About this place which seemed so strange to me 
Thus buried 'neath the stillness of the sea. 

Frank Leyton, in The Bells beneath the Sea. 

From Angers we decided, as the time for 
the Mystery Play was approaching, to go by 
rail to Ploujean, and from that point to make 
excursions to interesting localities in the west 
of Brittany. 

It was not until the journey was nearly 
made that my husband chanced to mention 
that he had written to a certain innkeeper of 
Ploermel, who he had ascertained would be at 
Ploujean during the performance of the play, 
to meet us upon our arrival at the station. 

"He is the proprietor of a jaunting-car 
which will be useful to us now that Gamin 
and Farceur have wended their way home- 
ward, and I am assured that he is an excellent 
guide and an inexhaustible story-teller." 

"And what is the name of this useful per- 
sonage ? " 



lont St. Michel. 



A Castle of the Sea 113 

** Anatole le Bavard." 

" Then it was the VIcomte who recom- 
mended him — or was it that sly Finette at the 
chateau ? " 

" Neither ; it was his mother, the old woman 
who told you the legend of Roland at Angers, 
labelle-mlre, Zephyre le Bavard." 

I uttered a cry of disappointment. So la 
belle-mere was Zephyre. Impossible ! I had 
imagined that romantic name as belonging 
to a sylph-like creature of fifteen, and la belle- 
mere was at least sixty and weighed nearly 
three hundred ! To think that I had actually 
seen Zephyre, had heard her talk — she who 
was accredited with knowing all about the; 
mystery of the vanished staircase, and might 
even have enlightened me as to that strange 
document which Louis Rondel had discovered 
in the turret — and yet I was none the wiser ! 
Like Roland in his adventure with Moro-an le 
Fay, I had lost my opportunity, and would 
probably never find it again. 

Then, to cap my disappointment, I realised 
that as Zephyre had lived at Chateau La Joy- 
euse she must have seen the curious bronze 
face in the library. Would not this account 
for its introduction into her story, and the 
accuracy of her description ? Was it not pos- 



114 Feudal Chateaux 

sible that in this part of her legend she had 
drawn upon her imagination? Had I really 
made a reliable discovery in regard to the 
history of the object ? Was there any Mrs. 
Harris? There was no answer to my ques- 
tionings. 

Anatole was waiting at the station when we 
arrived ; waiting for us, he averred, though we 
noticed that as quickly as possible after depos- 
iting us at the inn he flew back to be in time 
for the arrival of the next train. It could not 
be greed for business which made him lash his 
pony into such unusual speed, for we had en- 
gaged his services for a fortnight. We could 
not explain his general air of expectancy, his 
gala costume, and the cabbage-shaped bouquet, 
done up in white paper, with which he had 
presented me on my arrival, duplicated ex- 
actly — until we remembered Finette. Then 
many things were made clear, though I was 
less certain as to the original destination of 
my red and yellow dahlias. 

Ploujean is in Finistere, and Finlstere In 
the extreme western portion of Brittany, 
swept eternally by the ocean wind and lapped 
on three sides by Its waves. All the dark cliffs 
were ablaze with golden gorse, and Illimitable 
heather-empurpled moors stretched away to 



A Castle of the Sea 115 

the landward horizon. Here and there were 
little groups of huddled white huts where a 
river or an inlet made a harbour for the fishing- 
boats, but there were long stretches of lonely 
coast between, with only an occasional Hght- 
house to tell that it had ever been discovered 
by man, and the only signs of life were gulls 
swooping restlessly over the water and the 
tiny curlews pattering along the sand. 

Ploujean is more than a village, — it is an 
ancient town with a large public square faced 
by old houses with slate roofs, and on one side 
a pretty Gothic church with picturesque open 
belfries, and a cemetery with grotesquely cut 
yews. Here every summer for many years 
the peasants have given the Mystere de Saint 
GwenoU, a play popular in the sixteenth cent- 
ury, describing events supposed to have oc- 
curred in prehistoric times, — the old legend of 
the engulfment of the city of Is, and the res- 
cue of King Gradlon by St. Gwenole. The 
peasants act the mystery in the open air ; the 
painted scenery is stretched upon the ceme- 
tery wall, and the audience, filling the public 
square, is a heterogeneous mingling of nobles 
and peasants, artists, tourists, the seaside 
pleasure-seeker, and the religious devotee. 
The orchestra consisted of a couple of aged 



ii6 Feudal Chateaux 

bagpipe players in the picturesque old Breton 
costume, mounted on some barrels. The play 
was long, dragging its weary way through five 
acts, but it was listened to with breathless 
attention by the white-coiffed peasants, who 
had come from miles away to hear it, and it 
was acted with great conscientiousness by the 
amateur performers. They were all men, the 
female parts being taken by boys. King 
Gradlon was played by the village barber, 
St. Gwenole by a wine merchant, and the 
other stars were hostlers, blacksmiths, road- 
menders, farm-labourers, and fishermen. Some 
had so nearly preserved the ancient physical 
type that in their antique Celtic costumes, 
with stuffed dogs' heads as crests for their 
barbaric helmets, they seemed magnificent 
statues. Others acted so naively that they 
were most amusing, but for the actors them- 
selves it was no laughing matter. Had they 
not rehearsed laboriously twice a week for six 
months, scrupulously repeating the same faults 
on the forty-eighth rehearsal for which they 
had been forty-seven times corrected ? And 
were they not to receive from the Mayor the 
munificent compensation of four dollars for 
these labours ? Moreover, the legend which 
they acted, if not actually biblical, was at least 



A Castle of the Sea 117 

taken from the Lives of the Saints, and its 
infalHbility as history was not an open ques- 
tion, for many of them had seen the statue of 
King Gradlon, mounted on his white horse, 
placed over the portal of the Cathedral of 
Quimper, in company with the helmeted lion 
of Montfort, and other equally sacred and au- 
thentic personages. 

There was a still stronger reason for believ- 
ing the story. It had all happened right here, 
and though not in the memory of any now 
living, still their grandsires averred that they 
had seen from their fishing - boats on very 
calm days the roofs of the city of Is, with the 
steeples of the churches, on which every vane 
was still set toward the west. 

We too felt that such an experience must 
be most convincing, and if we could not actu- 
ally hear the tolling of the bells beneath the 
sea, or see the submerged city, it would be 
something to have the anchor catch upon a 
tower of Dahut's castle, and bring up some 
token, however trifling, of its existence. We 
therefore determined to continue our excur- 
sion to the Point de Raz, the westernmost 
extremity of Finistere and of France, for be- 
yond it, far out in the ocean, one sees the 
little Isle de Sein, and under the deep water 



ii8 Feudal Chateaux 

between, which shimmers Hke a floor of glass 
In calm weather, but can rage madly when the 
wind rouses the frothing sea demons, there 
lies the lost city of Is. 

It was some time after the breaking into 
confusion of the rapt attention and perfect 
stillness with which the audience had followed 
the play before we could find Anatole. Fln- 
ette was with him, as demure and pretty as 
ever, and by great good fortune, as Anatole 
explained, Finette wished to make some visits 
on old friends scattered along the route 
which we had proposed to take. There was 
no one like Finette for making sandwiches, 
and as there was plenty of room for her on 
the driver's seat by his side, he had invited her 
to accompany the expedition. She could hold 
the horse when It was necessary, in acting as 
our guide, for him to leave the waggonette, and 
could serve madame In an hundred ways as 
maid. It was a rank imposition, but I was well 
contented, for Finette had come from Chateau 
La Joyeuse and would return to It again. 

She had brouo^ht me no direct word from 
Yseult, who did not know that we were to 
meet, but the maid told me much of her mis- 
tress's sadness since her return to the chateau, 
and how the Vicomte had changed. 



A Castle of the Sea 119 

" He has aged so strangely, Madame. He 
has grown bent and ill-tempered and wicked- 
looking. One would scarcely know him. His 
face is like that demon-mask that used to be 
in the helmet over the library door." 

" Is it not there now ? " 

" No, Madame, and there Is something very 
strange about that mask. You see, Madame, 
the Vicomtesse told the young architect who 
was visiting with us about the footsteps, and 
he had an idea that it was the ravens chattering 
and fluttering under the roof — just as Mon- 
sieur the Vicomte used to insist that it was 
rats in the wall." 

" Perhaps," interrupted Anatole, " it was 
the creaking of the giroztette (weathercock) on 
the roof." 

'' BSte / just like a man, all three of you, and 
it was neither the one nor the other, nor the 
third. It was the demons, coming after that 
mask." 

" Did not the footsteps cease after Monsieur 
Rondel cleared the ravens' nests from the 
turret ? " 

" Certainly, and for good reason ; Monsieur 
Rondel must have left the door open, and 
either the demons carried away the mask, or 
the demon-mask joined its companions, for it 



I20 Feudal Chateaux 

has gone, Madame. It is in the helmet no 
longer, and no one will ever be frightened 
again by its fiery red eyes. Sometimes, how- 
ever, I have another idea about it. It seems 
to me as if Monsieur the Vicomte must have 
tried on that mask, for the sport of the thing, 
and it had cemented itself to his flesh, — had 
grown in, Madame, the expression has become 
so terrible. His eyes, too, are red and sullen, 
and his moustache, which he used to keep 
waxed so carefully, — it is no longer the mous- 
tache of a gentleman, but of an enraged cat. 
Something frightful must have happened to 
him while he was travelling. Did Madame 
see no change in him ? " 

" No, Finette ; the last time I saw him he 
was passing into a church to say his prayers, 
like a good Catholic, and I thought that for 
his age, I had never seen so handsome a man." 

''Ah! fa, he does not say his prayers now. 
He has had the chapel door boarded up, — the 
chapel that mademoiselle was so anxious 
should be restored, and had Monsieur Rondel 
down from Paris to make estimates upon. 
He made me trundle \\\& prie-Dieu out of his 
bedroom, and broke madame's benitier, that 
was made of old Rouen faience, a precious 
bijou, and one that she had inherited. I fear 



A Castle of the Sea 121 

he is going insane, and it is a dog's Hfe he 
leads mademoiselle, who never leaves him." 

" You shall take a letter to Mademoiselle 
Yseult from me, when you return," I said. " I 
will send her our itinerary, so that she can 
write me all summer, and I will write her fre- 
quently." 

" Do so, Madame, and if you happen to see 
Monsieur Rondel in your travels you might 
suggest to him that it would be well to enclose 
his letters for mademoiselle in envelopes ad- 
dressed to me. I would scorn to read them, 
and so would the Vicomte a week ago, but I 
would not answer for him now, for he pounces 
on the mail-bag when it is brought in like a 
cat on a mouse. He may think I am getting 
a good many letters, but I shall tell him that 
it is Anatole here who is writing, and I shall 
have one of Anatole's letters always ready in 
case the Vicomte demands to see what I have 
received." 

" I will tell Monsieur Rondel, if I see him, 
of your kind suggestion, but I doubt if he will 
take advantage of it." 

" Possibly not, Madame, men are so stupid, 
but it was only my duty as a Christian to try 
to help him." 

Finette was really a useful little personage 



122 Feudal Chateaux 

and we had no reason to regret her uninvited 
appearance. Anatole and she vied with each 
other in story-telling, suggesting one legend 
after another ; in turn correcting, improving, 
and adding little flourishes to the recitals, 
which were pleasant to listen to, but which I 
shall not attempt to reproduce exactly. It 
was a delightful trip in spite of my anxiety for 
poor Yseult, and though we often wished that 
our friends were with us, we gradually gave 
ourselves up to the full enjoyment of our sur- 
roundings. 

As we approached the Point de Raz driv- 
ing along the coast, the scenery became wilder 
and more sinister. The cliffs were jagged and 
black, and scooped into caverns where the 
winds and waters howled and roared. The 
coast of Finistere is extremely dangerous, 
and from its many shipwrecks has acquired 
such ominous nomenclature as the Baie des 
Trespasses (bay of the dying), the Enfer (hell) 
of Plogoff, the Golfe des Naufrages (gulf of 
the shipwrecked), and the Isles of the Ghosts, 
the Demons, and the Pirates. 

The Isle de Sein was once the seat of a 
Druid oracle, and later it was covered with 
buildings (if we are to believe Finette's tra- 
dition rather than actual research), for long 



A Castle of the Sea 123 

ago the island was a part of the mainland, 
joined to the Point de Raz by a low penin- 
sula on which the city of Is was built. So 
large and beautiful it was, the Bretons boast, 
that Paris was named, in reference to it, '■'par 
Is,'' the equal of Is. The city was protected 
on both sides by sea-walls, in which were 
sluice-gates, opened only in calm weather and 
at low tide to allow the sea to fill a basin and 
to permit the entrance of ships. But these 
gates were always locked when the tide turned, 
for at its full the water outside was nearly up 
to the top of the sea-wall, and higher than the 
masts of the ships inside the harbour, or than 
the steeples of the churches of the city of Is. 
King Gradlon's palace was in the water-tower 
just over the gates, whose golden key he kept, 
and they were never opened except by his 
permission. This, at least, was the law, but 
his wicked daughter, Dahut, sometimes stole 
the key to allow entrance- into the basin of 
boats brinorinp; her lovers to the marble land- 
ing at the foot of her tower. Sometimes 
these lovers were young Vikings of noble 
birth whom she had met in her father's court. 
Sometimes they were base-born pirates of 
whose terrible deeds she had heard (for she 
prided herself on conquering the invincible) ; 



124 Feudal Chateaux 

but high or low, the man to whom she sent 
her galley with the golden key was never so 
favoured twice. On arriving- at the landing a 
mask was placed upon his face, ostensibly to 
conceal his Identity, but a mask so poisoned 
that the wearer died mysteriously within 
twelve hours after It was put on. 

For a long time her wickedness was not 
known, and even when It became notorious 
King Gradlon would not believe It, and the 
harpy went unpunished. At last, however, 
she found her match. Two princes, brothers, 
had come to King Gradlon's court on an 
embassy from Norway. They were both 
handsome men of elegant manners and superb 
dress, befitting their royal birth, and Dahut 
made eyes Impartially at both, Inviting the 
elder brother to see her jongleurs give a per- 
formance In her bower that evening, and the 
younger to a banquet on the night following. 

The first, suspecting nothing, became her 
victim, and died In the arms of his brother on 
his return to the ship, but his extraordinary 
vitality so resisted the poison that his power 
of speech was not paralysed, as was usually 
the case, and he babbled Incoherently of a 
black mask, and, fancying, that he still wore It, 
tore the flesh from his face. As he staggered 



A Castle of the Sea 125 

on board the ship there was something so wild 
in his appearance that the suspicions of the 
younger brother were aroused and he caused 
Dahut's galley with its oarsmen to be de- 
tained. To save his life the servant who had 
charge of the golden key gave it up, and the 
brother, who now had the power of entering 
the city, resolved to avenge the murder. But 
Dahut, who had repented of her rashness in 
inviting the younger brother, when she learned 
that her galley had not returned saw that her 
crime was discovered and determined that even 
with the aid of the golden key the Prince should 
never enter the gates. She accordingly sent 
for the Druid of Sein, who had intimate deal- 
ings with the Prince of the Power of the Air, 
and asked him to raise a storm which would 
sink all the ships in the Channel. The white- 
bearded magician stood upon the roof of her 
tower and pointed his wand toward the sea. 
Immediately every weathercock on the steeples 
and gables of the city pointed in the same 
direction, and the wind whistled briskly from 
the west. Merchants took in their wares, 
housewives closed their windows, domestic 
animals scurried for shelter, and fishing-boats 
sought the harbourage of the city ; but the key 
to the gates could not be found, and they were 



126 Feudal Chateaux 

refused refuge and were obliged to scud for 
such little inlets on the coast as were available. 

Looking through a powerful glass the Prin- 
cess could see that the sailors on the Norse 
ship had close-reefed the sails and were lower- 
ing more anchors. 

" Stronofer, strongfer ! " she cried to the ma- 
gician, and the whistling of the wind rose to a 
shriek and strengthened to a howl, and the air 
was full of flying sand, chimney tiles, and 
trees that had been uprooted by the tempest, 
and finally the roofs of houses that went sailing 
inland from the city of Is. And the good St. 
Gwenole at the door of his hermitage in the 
" Montagues Noires," with his miraculous 
second sisfht saw demons ridinof like witches 
on the debris, and knew that the powers of 
evil were assaulting the city, and that on ac- 
count of Dahut's sins all of his prayers would 
be powerless to save it. He girded up his 
robe, and taking his staff set out to warn 
King Gradlon. On his way he met the citi- 
zens flying toward the mainland, for he had 
uttered an exorcism which had compelled the 
demons of the wind asfainst their will to set 
the great alarm-bell ringing, and the citizens 
had warning of their peril. The Saint found 
the King pacing his palace in anxiety, and 



A Castle of the Sea 127 

even as he called to him to flee a gull was 
blown straight through the shivered window 
aealnst his breast. The Kinor had his white 
horse and the Princess's hackney brought to 
the postern-gate, and he sent a messenger 
to the Princess in her turret to summon her to 
flee with him to the mountains. 

" I will follow in a moment," she said to the 
messenger. " Bid him ride on and I will 
overtake him." And the King rode on, look- 
ing back fearfully for the Princess, and in the 
multitude of fugitives he fancied he saw her 
following. 

" Oh ! my beautiful city," he mourned ; " how 
can I bear to witness thy submersion ! " 

"Never fear," said St. Gwenole ; "I will 
remain here, and if the sluice-gates give way 
will bless the waves so that they will be turned 
to holy water and will do no harm to the city, 
which will rise from its baptism cleansed from 
every evil thing." 

St. Gwenole stood on the church tower hold- 
ing aloft his crucifix. The Druid stood on 
Dahut's tower, still lifting his hazel wand, and 
the Princess stood by his side, well satisfied 
with her work. 

"The Norse ship is a wreck by this time," 
she thought, " and we may slacken the tem- 



128 Feudal Chateaux 

pest." But at that instant she saw a small 
boat driven by the wind approaching the 
tower. The boat contained one man, who 
was grasping the tiller. He had been steer- 
ing by the light that shone from the Princess's 
window, but he had no power to stop the 
boat and the waves carried him by the tower. 
Dahut recognised him, and laughed as he 
passed, and clapped her hands in delirious 
joy as the boat shivered like an egg-shell 
against the sluice-gates. Then she noticed 
that though the receding wave had carried 
back the fragments of the boat, the man, 
flung against the gates, had clung to them 
and might clamber down into the city. 

" Stronger, stronger ! " she cried in a fury, 
and a wave, mountain-high, towered above 
gates and palace ; but ere it broke the Norse- 
man had found the lock of the sluice-gate and 
had opened it with the golden key, which hung 
from his girdle. He had thought only of 
swinging in upon the gate, and so of saving 
his life ; but as the bolts slipped back the stu- 
pendous wave smote the gates with all its 
force and the ocean overwhelmed the town. 

It was a different version of this legend 
which the peasants of Ploujean had acted, but 
on the whole I preferred Finette's, for it 



A Castle of the Sea 129 

seemed to promise a continuation, in the ris- 
ing of the purified city,^ — which indeed she 
gave us later on ; and as we saw its towers 
pearly through the shifting mist we could 
almost credit her assurance that Mont St. 
Michel was this risen city, purified for cent- 
uries by the cleansing tides of the sea. 

We had no proof either that the submerged 
city had not slipped away from its moorings, 
for the sea was stormy and we could not 
indulge our curiosity by gazing down into its 
depths from a fishing-boat. 

Though disappointed in this design, the 
trip was full of interest. This region is the 
fairy-land of Brittany : the dolmens and men- 
hirs which are scattered through the country 
are thought to be the homes of cornicotiets and 
poulpiqttets, little impish people who freakishly 
distribute treasure or misfortune as the whim 
takes them. This was the country, too, raided 
by that prince of brigands, Guy de Fontenelle, 
who had his robber castle on an island near 
by, and whose fierce bandits left nothing 
which was not too hot to touch or too heavy 
to carry away. During his lifetime the coun- 
try was afHicted by another scourge of great 
grey wolves, which became so hungry and so 
audacious that they descended from the mount- 



130 Feudal Chateaux 

ains in the daytime, and broke into the homes 
of the peasants, who beheved that they were 
the embodiment of the souls of Fontenelle's 
dead brigands. 

" These were talking wolves" — Anatole was 
sure of that. " Had Madame never heard of 
le petit Chaperon Rouge (Little Red Riding 
Hood)? Well, there were others; garrulous 
wolves who made themselves very agreeable 
by telling stories ; Madame, who is so inter- 
ested in hearing tales, should be especially on 
her guard. A five-leaved clover is an excel- 
lent protection against all evil animals, and 
there are many. Bats are especially malign ; 
has Madame never been told the origin of those 
uncanny creatures, half bird, half beast, and 
wholly demonic ? Best of all, there is the legend 
of the Walking Stones. It is so indisputably 
true that it has been printed in a book." 

I remembered the tales vaguely as told by 
Emile Souvestre, who, born in this part of 
Brittany, made himself its Hans Andersen by 
collecting its fairy stories, but I was glad to 
hear them again, for they are as truly a pro- 
duct of the Breton soil as its flowering gorse 
and heather, and in their perennial upspring- 
ing they have lost nothing, but rather have 
gained in extent and in colour. 



A Castle of the Sea 131 

Returning from our western explorations 
we followed the northern coast, which gives its 
name to the next department, Cotes du Nord. 
Near Lannion we found ourselves among the 
great dolmens, huge boulders of rose-coloured 
granite of curious shape ; some of them were 
balanced so nicely that a child's hand could 
rock them ; others were buried in the heather, 
like kneeling prehistoric monsters, pasturing 
peaceably in great flocks, and ready at the 
least alarm to rush down into the sea, where 
others of their kind were disporting among 
the breakers. Something of this fancy I ex- 
pressed to Finette, and she replied very seri- 
ously that it was only once in an hundred 
years, and on the eve of St. Sylvester, that 
the dolmens left their places and tumbled 
down to the beach to drink the salt water. 

I had spoken to Finette that morning of 
the bronze mask, wondering if it might have 
been the same one which Dahut used to dis- 
guise her lovers. 

" We will never know its entire history," 
she replied, "until we ask Anatole's mother." 

" But I did find her at Angers," I answered. 

" Did Zephyre say that she knew nothing 
about it?" Finette asked. 

" No ; she gave me some very interesting 



132 Feudal Chateaux 

information, but apparently does not know- 
all its story. She said it once belonged to 
Roland. I should like to know its history 
between his time and the present." 

" But my mother certainly could have told 
you," said Anatole, " that Maugis hid the face 
after the death of Roland, and wove a spell 
that it might remain hidden until the coming 
of another and as great a hero." 

" Yes, your mother said that Maugis hid it, 
but where ? " 

" But where ? why here." 

" You surely do not mean this very spot?" 

" It may have been. It is a tradition at 
Angers that Maugis on a certain St. Sylves- 
ter's night, of which I was telling you, took the 
piece of armour to such a field of dolmens as 
this, and when they had all rushed down to 
the ocean for their once-a-century drink, he 
placed it in the bed of one of the largest, 
where there was no chance of its being dis- 
covered for another hundred years. They 
told me at the Point de Raz that it was Maugis 
who used to live in the Druids' Tower on the 
Isle de Sein, and who raised the great tem- 
pest which destroyed the city of Is. If so, 
he went down with the wicked Dahut, so that 
was the last of him." 



A Castle of the Sea 133 

" Not at all," Finette contradicted cheer- 
fully. " The city rose again, you know, three 
hundred years later. So there was Maugis 
free again." 

" What idiocy ! " Anatole replied politely, 
"when everybody knows that in that time 
it was cleansed from everything wicked ; and 
when St. Gwenole anchored it off Pont 
Orson and chanoed its name to Mont St. 
Michel, he intended that no magicians or 
women should cross the sill of its castle, 
and so it became a great abbey-fortress, the 
most famous in all the land. The demons 
did their best. They surrounded it with sables 
moiwants (quicksands), and at every return of 
the tides they strove to overwhelm it, but 
St. Gwenole bought them off by promising 
them one victim a year, and with that the 
ocean was satisfied. Even Rollo, the great 
Norse pirate, who swore that to avenge the 
death of his countrymen that were killed by 
Dahut he would destroy every city of France, 
even he, after he had visited Mont St, Michel 
and saw what a holy community it was, spared 
it, and he protected it after the King of France 
gave him Normandy, though he knew that it 
was the city where one of his princes had been 
poisoned and the other drowned." 



134 Feudal Chateaux 

Finette's nose was in air in derision. 
" Much Rollo cared for the hohness of the 
monks ! " she said. " It was the magic of 
Gisele's pretty blue eyes that did that busi- 
ness, or the towers of St. Michel would have 
been tumbled into the water from whence 
they rose." 

" How was that ? " I asked. " And who was 
this Gisele ?" 

" It is a matter of history, Madame," Anatole 
replied. " Rollo came sailing along with his 
Norse pirates, and he saw the island castle of 
St. Michel, and as a soothsayer who had come 
with him assured him that this was the city of 
Is, he determined to sack and destroy it. But 
the Abbot rowed out to his ship, and told him 
what a poor community they were, with nothing 
to steal, and how holy and kind to the poor 
they had been since all the wicked women 
were drowned. Rollo was only half convinced, 
but he went back on the Abbot's safeguard, 
with his men waiting just outside the gate, 
ready to press in if there were treachery ; and 
the Abbot showed him over the fortress. 
What impressed Rollo most was not the 
sanctity or poverty of the monks, but the 
strength of the place. He saw how a small 
number could easily defend it, and he noted 



A Castle of the Sea 135 

that the monks were sturdy fehows, and that 
weapons as well as crucifixes hung in their 
halls. He reckoned that he might have hard 
work to take the castle, so he resorted to 
diplomacy. He promised to take it under his 
protection, and offered to leave some of his 
men to garrison the fortifications, if the Abbot 
would afford him refuse here on his return 
from his expedition, and would give him infor- 
mation of wealthier abbeys or castles that he 
could pillage. 

" On his promise of protection the Abbot 
agreed to tell him a great secret whereby he 
could secure much treasure. Rollo eave his 
word, and the Abbot told him that on the 
next St. Sylvester's night, which was near at 
hand, the stones would make their centennial 
pilgrimage, and that while they were drinking, 
all the treasures of the elves, of whom they 
were the bankers, would be open to the eye 
of heaven and might be carried away. The 
pirate fleet therefore anchored off Tregastel, 
and it may have been to this very flock of 
stones that Rollo led his men. They were 
careful not to stand between them and the sea, 
but a little to one side ; for if they had been in 
their path they would have been crushed to a 
pulp in the wild stampede of the boulders. As 



136 Feudal Chateaux 

soon as the dolmens were well out of the way 
each Norseman rushed to a different hollow 
which one of the giant stones had made its 
lair, and found that the Abbot had not de- 
ceived them. Jewels and golden objects and 
all manner of riches were exposed to view. 
Rollo was enchanted. ' They say that " a roll- 
ine stone o-athers no moss," ' he cried. ' These 
rollinof stones should have remembered that 
adage and should have kept better guard 
over their property.' 

" The pirates began to gather up their booty, 
but orreed made them foro^et that the boulders 
would soon come home again. Up the beach 
they tumbled, as intoxicated as though they 
had been spending the evening at the cabaret. 
They turned somersaults and played leap-frog 
as gaily as though their weight were pounds 
instead of tons. They bounded into the air 
and shouldered each other, and wrestled and 
pushed like frolicsome schoolboys released 
from their tasks. There would have been no 
escape for the poor Norsemen, for they were 
completely shut in by this terrific herd, had 
not a very remarkable thing happened. 

" The Abbot had led Rollo to suppose that 
there were no women on the Mont of St. 
Michel. It was a pious fraud for the sake of 



A Castle of the Sea 137 

saving the poor creatures from the pirates ; 
but in fact there existed on the island and 
within the walls of the castle a convent of holy 
nuns, who were conducting the education of 
certain noble maidens. Among these was the 
Princess Gisele, daughter of the brother of 
King Eudes. This young person was en- 
dowed with all the innocent mischief of ten 
ordinary girls, and with curiosity unbelievable. 
She had seen the entrance of Rollo into the 
castle, and she had stolen into the Abbot's 
apartments and concealed herself behind the 
arras, and had heard the story of the walking 
stones, with the explicit directions of how to 
reach them. This she reported to the other 
pupils, who were immediately fired to see — I 
say not the Norsemen, but the miracle of the 
pilgrimage of the dolmens. Accordingly, when 
Gisele added what the Abbot had neglected 
(perhaps from treachery) to inform Rollo, that 
it would not be safe to attempt this expedition 
unless each man wore a five-leaved clover in 
his helmet, it seemed to the maidens that 
it was their duty to rescue these interesting 
strangrers. That nig-ht both the moon and the 
tides were at their full, and after the nuns 
had bidden good-night to their charges, the 
maidens slipped from their cells, and, suborn- 



138 Feudal Chateaux 

ing the guardians, rowed away in the Abbot's 
galley, following the wake of the Norse fleet. 
They fastened the galley at a little distance 
from the ships and trooped across the moonlit 
moors, arriving on the scene just as the dol- 
mens came hurtling back from their dip in the 
sea. 

" The maidens, with Gisele at their head, 
holding aloft the magic five-leaved clovers, 
bravely stepped between the tumultuous horde 
and their victims, and with a hoarse roar of 
baffled rage and fear the stony monsters fled 
back like a covey of frightened partridges. 
Rollo, who, though a barbarian by birth, had 
some traits of gentleness in his nature, threw 
himself upon his knees before the Princess, 
thanking her for his preservation, and swore 
that his men should do her and her maidens 
no harm. They even escorted the galley back 
to Mont St. Michel, which they promised to 
protect in spite of the doubtful behaviour of 
the Abbot, and they shared with the maidens 
the treasures which they had found. 

" The most curious part of this story is the 
circumstance that Rollo had discovered the 
piece of armour which Maugis had hidden. 
It was the only object in that particular pit, 
and he gave it to Gisele, saying that though 



A Castle of the Sea 139 

the metal in which they were set might be of 
no use to her, yet the carbuncle eyes would 
make her some pretty trinket. 

" You may be sure that this was not the end 
of the affair. Gisele wore the grotesque face 
as a clasp for her girdle, and there must have 
been some charm in its fiery eyes, for Rollo 
could not forget the maid. He was victorious 
everywhere, and at last he held Paris at his 
mercy. The King sent out his uncle, Duke 
Robert, to treat with him, and offered him all 
of Neustria if he and his warriors would settle 
there, become baptised, and acknowledge the 
King of France as their sovereign. Duke 
Robert was the father of Gisele, and when 
Rollo heard this he accepted the proposition 
provided that Neustria was the dowry of the 
Princess Gisele. So Neustria became Nor- 
mandy, the land of the Normans, and all of 
Gisele's schoolmates were married to Viking 
chieftains, and peace was ushered in by wed- 
ding bells — the first Chimes of Normandy. 
To this day maidens go out with five-leaved 
clovers on St. Sylvester's night, ^and on the 
Vigil of All Saints ; but though they still find 
husbands, the dolmens are more cautious or less 
thirsty, and I have never known anyone who 
was able to trick them out of their treasures." 



I40 Feudal Chateaux 

MONT ST. MICHEL 

" Dans les sables mouvants sur formidable roc, 
Au peril de la Mer est Saint Michel de France." 

Finette had returned to Chateau La Joy- 
euse, and after she left us we almost hesitated 
to see the real fortress of these wonder stories 
for fear that the glamour would depart. But 
the Mont is more wonderful than any fairy tale 
that could be fabricated about it. A part of 
the great pile is called the Marvel, for it was 
almost a miraculous feat to build a castle in so 
inaccessible a spot. It is a marvel of beauty, 
too, and of strength, in its union of the grand 
Norman pillars and arches in the foundation 
portions with the exquisite Gothic of the thir- 
teenth century, where the building shoots up 
and blossoms like a flower in all the radiance 
of sunshine flashing through jewelled glass 
windows. 

Ail peril de la Mer it is called, for around 
it the tides ebb and flow ceaselessly, jealously 
guarding it with their waves. In the change 
of watch the waves leave in their place still 
more cruel warders, the grey quicksands, which 
seem. to give easy access, but trap the unwary 
and drag them down to suffocation, or hold 
their victims relentlessly until the mad waves 
rush back and overwhelm them. 



A Castle of the Sea 141 

In the white mists that drift across these 
quicksands the peasants fancy that they see 
the wraith of " the White-veiled Fairy of the 
Sands," who stole every night across the 
treacherous pavement to carry food to her 
lover, the knight Aubrey, imprisoned in one 
of the dungeons. She was caught at last by 
the relentless tides, and her ghost was soon 
joined by that of her lover, who starved to 
death without her ministrations. 

A long causeway now leads from Pont Orson 
across the sands to the base of the Mont, 
where the village nestles within its encircling 
fortifications. An interesting old town in 
itself, with a famous inn for pilgrims, and an 
old parish church hung with the banners and 
votive offerings of knights who came from far 
and near to this popular shrine. Near the 
church is a museum containing, among other 
curios, some huge old volumes said to have 
belonged to Du Guesclin. A steep lane 
winds upward to an archway which opens 
into the Salle des Gardes, a strange hall 
built on different levels. Beyond the guard- 
chamber the path still climbs upward between 
the bishop's palace and the church, below 
bridges built across for the priests to pass over, 
until one enters the abbey church, with its se- 



142 Feudal Chateaux 

vere Norman nave and Gothic choir. Under 
the church is the solemn crypt, with Its huge 
pillars, and still beneath are the grewsome 
dunoreons, with an iron caQ^e in which a court- 
ier who had displeased Louis XV. was de- 
voured alive by rats. Far up on the rock is a 
beautiful cloistered court, one of the loveliest 
bits of that exuberant Gothic which flowered 
into all manner of curling foliage and playful 
dwarfs and chimerical animals. A Qreater 
contrast to the subterranean prisons could not 
be imaeined. Beneath the cloisters is the 
very noble hall of the knights, with three high 
vaulted aisles like those of a cathedral. In 
this hall Louis XL founded his order of the 
Chevaliers de Mont St. Michel, whose decora- 
tion consisted of a necklace or collar of linked 
scallop shells (the emblem of pilgrimage), 
from which depended a medallion of St. 
Michel killing a dragon. This grand apart- 
ment gives one an idea of the strength of 
the different institutions of knighthood, — the 
Templars, the Hospitallers, and other mil- 
itant orders, — for nowhere else does there exist 
so fine a specimen of the fortress monastery. 
The great dormitory where the monks slept 
in beds ranged in company, instead of seques- 
tered in cells, is empty now. So is the refec- 



A Castle of the Sea 143 

tory, whose tables groaned with dainties ; and 
the cellars where formerly stood the great 
butts of wine — 

" a brotherhood 
Dwelling for ever under ground, 
Silent, contemplative, round, and sound. 

With beards of cobwebs, long and hoar, 
Trailing and sweeping across the floor," 

But in the glamour of the moonlight the in- 
destructible halls are peopled again, and we 
hear the warrior-monks revelling in the refec- 
tory, and see them seize their battle-axes and 
formicfable maces with the swinging chain and 
ball when one among them tells how he has 
feigned to betray the fortress to Montgomery, 
the Protestant leader ; and that his men are 
to be drawn up one by one by the windlass 
into the great guardroom. Eighty are ad- 
mitted in this way, and slain as quickly as 
they are helped through the window, before 
Montgomery, chafing below at the slow ad- 
mission, suspects the truth, — that the traitor 
who promised to aid him is doubly a traitor, — 
and flees with the remnant of his force. 

From the time that Rollo fortified it. Mars 
has shared with the Prince of Peace the 
sovereignty of the Mont. The English at- 



144 Feudal Chateaux 

tempted in vain to take this outpost of France, 
and though empty and dismantled, it still re- 
mains one of the most wonderful and interest- 
ing of the castles of France. 

Most beautiful of all is the church upon the 
very summit. It was evening when we stood 
here, and Sir Walter Scott's lines describing 
another abbey might well have been written 
of this enchanting spot : 

" We entered now the chancel tall. 
The darkened roof rose high aloof, 
On pillars lofty and light and small ; 
The keystone, that locked each ribbed aisle, 
Was a fleur-de-lys or a quatre-feuille ; • 

The corbels were carved grotesque and grim ; 
And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim, 
With base and with capital flourished around. 
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound. 
The silver light, so pale and faint, 
Showed many a prophet, and many a saint. 
Whose image on the glass was dyed ; 
Full in the midst, his cross of red 
Triumphant Michael brandished. 
And trampled the apostate's pride. 
The moonbeam kissed the holy pane 
And threw on the pavement a bloody stain." 

An intelligent priest, who was shown over 
the buildings with us, gave us much entertain- 
ing information. He described so vividly the 
ceremony of .initiating a young man into the 



A Castle of the Sea 145 

order of knighthood that we seemed to see 
the candidate at his vigil, watching his arms 
before the altar. Several of the legends of 
The Table Round diVQ laid at Mont St. Michel. 
King Arthur is supposed to have killed a can- 
nibal giant who had his lair where the church 
now stands, and a chapel on this site was the 
pilgrimage shrine where his knights received 
benediction before marching away on their 
quest of the Holy Grail. 

If the dubbing of a knight was Impressive, 
the degradation of one who had proved re- 
creant was, as our new acquaintance explained 
It, almost heartrending. 

The culprit was first tried before the officers 
of his order In some great hall, like the Salle 
des Chevaliers, and having been found guilty 
and had sentence pronounced upon him, his 
brother knights and the public at large were 
summoned to witness his disgrace. 

" I have often figured to myself," he said, 
" that ceremony of dishonour in the case of 
Oliver Talvas de Bellesmes of Alen^on, who 
was convicted of an attempt to assassinate 
William the Conqueror. The Talvas were 
the possessors of immense border estates be- 
tween Normandy and Anjou. They held that 
they possessed a better right to govern Brit- 



146 Feudal Chateaux 

tany than William, and a deadly enmity existed 
between their families, and the Talvas de Bel- 
lesmes were noted for many black deeds of 
cruelty. There are oubliettes in the dungeons 
of Alencon where human bones have been 
found crumbling in corroded fetters, and in- 
struments of torture in other chambers whose 
function makes one's blood curdle. Old Wil- 
liam Talvas de Bellesmes, the father of Oli- 
ver, was noted for his wickedness, and so 
was Mabel, or Aimable, the daughter of Wil- 
liam Talvas. Mabel was skilled in the use of 
poisons, and had a turret fitted as a chemical 
laboratory where she concocted them. She 
was lovely in appearance, and was married 
to Roger de Montgomery, a very honour- 
able eentleman and the dearest friend of her 
brother Oliver. 

" Under his safeguard William the Con- 
queror, when a boy, visited at the castle of 
Alencon, and another lad of about his age was 
invited to bear him company. The night 
before he was to leave, this poor child was 
stabbed in his bed, and when inquisition was 
made by Roger de Montgomery, the crime 
was found to lie between his wife Mabel and 
Oliver, who confessed that he killed the lad, 
thinking to have stabbed the young Duke of 



A Castle of the Sea 147 

Normandy. As he had confessed to the deed,, 
and there was an inherited feud, he was not 
executed ; but he was pubHcly expelled from 
the order of chivalry. The cook of the castle, 
whose duty it had been to fasten on his gilded 
spurs, now hewed them from his heels with a 
butcher's cleaver. A scaffold was erected in 
the great council-chamber of the knights, and 
on it his armour was broken by the axe of the 
executioner; the blazon was effaced from his 
shield and it was dragged in the mud by crim- 
inals. Then the imprecation against traitors 
was read by a herald, and the Grand Master 
emptied a basin of water on his head, in token 
that the oil of his anointing was washed from 
his forehead. He was next stripped, robed in 
a shroud, and laid upon a bier with his broken 
arms, and carried by the monks into the 
church, where the burial-service was read over 
him. From the church he was taken to the 
family tomb, where his armour was buried, 
and he was turned loose to wander for the 
rest of his life as his own ghost, proscribed 
and disclaimed by relatives and friends." 

'A terrible punishment, but not too 
grievous for so frightful a crime," was our 
comment. 

" No," replied the priest, " if it had fallen 



148 Feudal Chateaux 

on the real evil-doer. But when Mabel Mont- 
gomery came to die, she confessed that she 
had stabbed the boy with her own hand, and 
that her brother, though guiltless of any com- 
plicity in the act, had confessed to it to save 
her from punishment and his friend Hugh 
Montgomery from the shame of knowing that 
his wife was a murderess." 

" And Oliver was reinstated ?" we asked. 

" It was too late," replied the priest ; " he 
had probably died an outcast, for he could not 
be found." 

Mont St. Michel stands just at the meeting 
of Brittany and Normandy. As we follow 
the trend of the coast by sea we thread the 
Channel Islands, which have belonored to Enor- 
land since the days of William the Conqueror. 
Scattered among the Jerseys and Guernseys 
are other picturesque castles of the sea, such 
as Castle Cornet, brave and strong, and Mont 
Orgueil, grand and venerable. William 
Prynne, imprisoned in the latter fortress for 
three years, wrote here his Divine and 
Profitable Meditaiions, Raised from the Con- 
templation of these Three Leaves of Nature s 
Volume : — /. Rocks. 2. Seas. j. Gardens. 
The dedication of his book to the daughter of 
Sir Philip Carteret (the governor of the cas- 



A Castle of the Sea 149 

tie), " Sweet Mistress, once fair Margaret," 
suggests that his contemplation included still 
another leaf from Nature's volume. 

We might have rounded the Manche and 
entered Normandy by one of its water-gates, 
but we chose to drive across the pleasant 
country, by William the Conqueror's great 
castle at Falaise, to his abbey city of Caen. 
Here I expected to hear from Yseult, and I 
was not disappointed. There was a provok- 
ingly brief note waiting for me at the post- 
office which said nothing of herself. 

"When you are in Caen," she wrote, "in- 
quire at the Abbey of Holy Trinity, which 
Queen Matilda founded, for Soeur Euphrasia. 
I have written her, asking her to copy for you 
a manuscript which I saw in the abbey library 
when I visited it several years since. I think 
it may interest you, as it bears some relation 
to the old Norman castles." 

I found Sister Euphrasie a smiling, rosy- 
faced nun, who handed me a packet through 
the grating. Yseult and she had been school- 
mates, she said, and she longed to see her 
again. It was very sweet and peaceful at the 
abbey, and if Yseult was not happy, — someway 
her last letter had not sounded so, — she hoped 
I would beg her to come and find a refuge 



150 Feudal Chateaux 

here. The nuns were not triste ; it was pleas- 
ant to care for the poor old beneficiaries of 
the abbey, and then they had such beautiful 
music, — I must sit a while in the church and 
listen to the vesper service. I sat and listened 
to the organ and the sweet chanting of the 
Stabat Mater, and I prayed for Yseult, but I 
prayed that she might never need this refuge. 
Then I wandered through the quaint old city 
to the little tower called the House of the 
Guardsmen, with the carved stone warders 
leaning over the parapets and watching for 
the coming of any foe, and seated under the 
trees across the way I read the story of 
Turold, Duke William's fool. 




( < 




CHAPTER IV 

A FOOL'S ERRANDS 

(Being the chronicles of the castles of Falaise and of Caen 
during the reign of Duke William of Normandy, found among the 
private papers of Cicely, Abbess of Holy Trinity.) 

T AM Turold, sometime "the Little Mon- 
1 key," Duke William's dwarf, jester, fool — 
what you will, held in equal consideration 
with his horse, his dog, and his falcon as a 
useful thrall, and kindly handled as were all 
his creatures. 

I loved my master with all the dumb pas- 
sion of my heart. I think he knew I had a 
heart, but never a soul until that night on 
which I went on my first errand and saved his 
life at peril of mine own, an adventure which 
happened on this wise : 

As I lay feigning sleep by the Ingleside at 
151 



152 Feudal Chateaux 

the castle of St. Saviour, I overheard Guy of 
Burgundy and certain others plotting with Sir 
Neal, whose guests they were, to surprise and 
kill my master as he lay that night, but slen- 
derly accompanied, at his hunting-lodge of 
Valos^nes. All unnoticed I stole from the 
castle, and mounting my horse which was in 
the stable, I made off through the fearsome 
night. When I reached the lodge I beat 
upon the door with a stirrup, crying, '* Treach- 
ery, Seigneicr, levez ! levez / " . 

When, coming down and putting his ear to 
the ground, he heard the hoof-beats of the ruf- 
fians coming to slay him, " The caitiffs are in 
force," he muttered ; " here, Raoul and An- 
toine, sauvez vous, but leave a light burning 
and the door bolted that they may think me 
within ! " Then, leaping to the saddle, he gave 
me his hand, for my horse was spent, and 
climbing by his foot I mounted behind him, 
he bidding me "Hug tight. Little Monkey"; 
and so we dashed on with but little advantage, 
a race for life or death. And life won, for, 
just as day was breaking and our horse was 
staggering blindly on, and I was praying my 
dear lord to lighten hij load by letting me 
down, we came to a chapel at the gate of the 
castle of Rye, and my lord went in to say 



Chateau Falaise. View from Mont Myra. 



A Fool's Errands 153 

his prayers. While I held the horse without, 
the Lord of Rye and his three sons came by 
as they were starting for a hunt. And when 
this lord heard of my master's flight he put 
him and me on his own fresh horse, and his 
three sons went with us for a bodyguard ; but 
my lord of Rye fastened my master's tired 
horse at his own castle gate, so that when the 
pursuers came up they saw it and lost much 
time in ransacking the castle, and so we got 
safe to the castle of Falaise, which was our 
own stronghold. 

This plot of Guy of Burgundy to slay my 
master and to seize the dukedom had come 
about in this way : My master, who had been 
bred up as a page at the court of the King of 
France, had but just come of age, and had 
taken the governance of Normandy, his father, 
Duke Robert, having perished in the Holy 
Land at the hand of the infidels. He was 
joyfully accepted by the greater part of the 
lords, but there were certain ones who desired 
him not, being stirred up to this treachery by 
the false bishop of Rouen, my lord's uncle 
Mauger, who favoured his other nephew, Guy. 
For a time their villainy was hidden. 

Guy of Burgundy had a castle on the front- 
ier of Normandy, where he often came, and 



154 Feudal Chateaux 

he sometimes visited my master at Falaise. 
My master, being great of soul, suspected no 
evil, and treated Guy right cousinly. One 
night, as they feasted together, I was called 
upon for quips and merry tales till my brains 
were wearied, and a troubadour sang love- 
songs ; and the wine having warmed them, 
Guy said, " I marvel, Cousin William, that 
you, who have had a taste of the gay life 
of the French court, should be pleased with 
this lonely and womanless habitation. Have 
the damsels of Falaise lost their beauty since 
my uncle's time, or come they no longer to 
beat their linen in the river under the castle 
windows ? " 

Then my master grew angry, but he re- 
strained himself, and he thought, " Perchance 
Guy meant no insult, but knew no better" ; so 
he answered that he was indeed lonely, and 
had thought of taking a wife, but that when 
he mated it must be with no village maid, and 
he challenged Guy to name him the best 
match in all Europe. 

"If by the best match," said Guy, "you 
mean the most beautiful, the most accom- 
plished, and the unattainable, she is La Belle 
Mathilde, daughter of the mighty Baldwin of 
Flanders." 



A Fool's Errands 155 

" The most beautiful, the most accomplished, 
and the most virtuous," my lord said after 
him musingly, ''may answer, your require- 
ments, but such common qualities are not 
enough for me." 

" She is also a most wealthy heiress, so 
please your Grace," Guy made answer in some 
pique. 

" My Grace is not sufficiently well pleased 
yet," quoth my exigeant lord, " and for this 
reason : My conscience tells me that I am 
myself a fair Christian, my peers find me no 
lout, and there be ladies who have told me 
that I am well favoured. Also my guardian, 
Alan Fergeant of Brittany, has so adminis- 
tered my estates that I have more wealth than 
I know how to bestow. Flanders is no better 
than Normandy or Burgundy — therefore, in 
all these respects the lady is but my equal and 
yours, fair cousin, and I see not why she should 
be greatly desired by either of us." 

" In lineage," said Guy, "she tops us both, 
for she is descended on her father's side from 
the Saxon King Alfred of England, and her 
mother was Adelais, daughter of Robert, King 
of France ; she is related also to the Emperor 
of Germany." 

Then my master pricked up his ears and mur- 



156 Feudal Chateaux 

mured, " It is better to found a royal line than 
to end one, but descent from an old race of 
kings should be no hindrance to those who 
would rule in a new dynasty." 

At these cogitations Guy could not keep his 
countenance, but laughed loudly, giving as a 
mock-toast, " La reine Mathilde." 

Seeing that my master drank to this toast 
but scowlingly, he said, still bantering, " She 
is indeed fit to be a queen, but Edward the 
Confessor is too old to seek a bride, and our 
liege lord of France is already wed, so be not 
discouraged, fair cousin." 

" I am not discouraged," my master an- 
swered stoutly, " and this Mathilde shall be 
queen of me, and in good time of England 
and France also." 

"An' if she be not pleased to accept from 
you the crown of these three kingdoms ? " 
Guy asked. 

"With all her wit," my lord answered, "the 
damsel hath doubtless the discernment to 
know her best offer when it is made her." 

"That hath she not," Guy replied hotly; 
" for she cast my offer in my teeth, as she will 
thine, saying that she can never love any man. 
And she made no shame of the reason, that 
her heart is given to Brihtric Meaw (or snow. 



A Fool's Errands 157 

so called for his blond beauty), the lord of the 

honour of Gloucester, who came to the court 

of Baldwin as ambassador from Engrland. 

,0 

Since he returned to his country (refusing her 
hand, which her father offered him with a 
goodly dowry), she has drooped and pined, 
refusing to be consoled by better men ; so let 
her go. Cousin William, for an obstinate jade. 
You and I can do better than to gather up 
another man's leavings." 

My master said nothing in reply, for Guy 
had touched his pride, which was always ac- 
counted the tender spot in his armour, and he 
had also touched his pity ; and that night as I 
lay at his feet I heard him talking in his sleep 
(it was then only that he babbled his secrets), 
and pleading, " Nay, lass, but let me try to 
teach thee to love me." 

The next morning the Duke of Burgundy, 
seeing that what his cousin had said the night 
before was not idle vapouring, but that he was 
firmly minded to set forward to Lille, persuaded- 
him to tarry for a few days to hunt a naughty 
boar which Neal of St. Saviours had told him 
ranged his forests and had slain many hunts- 
men. 

Hunting was my lord's dearest sport, so he 
wrote a letter to Earl Baldwin demanding his 



158 Feudal Chateaux 

daughter's hand in marriage, and sent it by 
his servitors, bidding them have speech with 
the maid, and having said what they could in 
his favour, to urge her to give no answer until 
she knew her suitor better, seeing he would 
shortly come for his answer in person ; and 
with that we set out for the hunting party. 
Guy had gone on ahead, and my master was to 
join him at Neal's castle, but going first to his 
own hunting-lodge of Valognes kept by a few 
huntsmen ; he was told there that the hunting 
was so good that he tarried to try it, and sent 
me on to tell Guy and Neal that he would be 
with them the day following. It was a disap- 
pointment to his would-be host that he came 
not — that I could see, for he had invited other 
lords, as I thought to do him honour, so that 
the castle was full of armed men. I heard 
Guy say to his host, " Think you that he will 
surely come on the morrow ? Hath he been 
warned of the plot?" With that I pricked 
up my ears ; and after supper, feigning sleep in 
the shadowy corner, I heard more. For it 
was settled between them that they would not 
wait for the chances of the morrow, but would 
ride that night as soon as the moon rose to 
Valognes, and there murder my master, and 
Grimbald of Plessis would strike the blow. 



A Fool's Errands 159 

Then it was that I saved my dear master's 
Hfe, as I have recounted, save that I have not 
told that when he held out his hand to aid my 
climbing, crying, *' Up, Little Monkey " (his 
pet name for me), I would not mount, my 
heart being swollen with contrary passions of 
love and wounded pride, but I threw myself 
on the bracken, crying that if I was but a 
beast I were not worth the saving. Then my 
dear lord swore that he would nevermore so 
misname me, but that I was his little quen (or 
chosen companion), and I sprang full joyfully 
behind him, hugging him as tight as ever lover 
held his sweetheart. 

After that the conspiracy took open shape, 
and my lord with his battering of the rebel- 
lious lords into their allegiance, had no time 
to think of love-making. Earl Baldwin, too, 
had sent word that though he asked no better 
son-in-law, his daughter had vowed never to 
marry. 

" It is but what I looked for," said my 
master, "and I like her the better for it. 
Light won, little worth ; she shall know me 
better — and change her mind." 

So, when he had overcome all his enemies, 
and some were killed, and some in prison, and 
some had rendered themselves, and Guy had 



i6o Feudal Chateaux 

fled to his own estates, and the King of 
France had made a league of peace with my 
master, we set out for Lille upon our wooing. 
He sent a page to announce his coming, who 
came back to the inn with the crestfallen 
aspect of a whipped dog. My master saw 
that he had bungled his errand before he had 
uttered a word. 

" So she will have none of me ? and what 
saidst thou in my favour ? " he asked shortly. 

" That which is held of all men concerninof 
thee : that never was seen a man so grandly 
formed, or so fairly accoutred, nor one who 
rode so gallantly, and became his hauberk so 
well, or bore himself so gracefully among 
ladies, or with such credit among scholars, or 
with such honour among knights, or with such 
gentleness in his household."^ 

"And when may I belie thy praises?" Duke 
William asked. 

" I counsel thee to let the matter rest as it 
is," quoth the messenger, " for though her 
father is rightly called the Gentle, thou art 
well rid of such a shrew, for she scoffed at my 
persuasions and vowed by Our Lady that 
when she married it would not be with a 
bastard." 

' Wace, a historian of the time, praises William in these terms. 



A Fool's Errands i6i 

With that word the blood mounted into my 
master's face, and then left it white as death, 
and he strode to the Earl's palace, I following 
unregarded. It was a Sunday, and it so fell 
out that when he reached the door the Lady 
Mathilde met him with her maids, returning 
from the cathedral. She was daintily arrayed 
in a silken gown broidered with roses, a veil 
of silver-shot tissue covering but not conceal- 
ing her beautiful hair, which was braided in long 
tresses with ropes of pearls. She held her mis- 
sal demurely in one hand, and in the other, as 
though it were a royal sceptre, a palm branch 
that she had gotten at church, and I have 
never seen a lovelier picture. My master with 
all his rage was struck by her beauty, and 
gazed at her for a moment spellbound. 

She returned his gaze with one of question- 
ing, for he blocked her way, and being travel- 
stained and unshorn, he was not to be known 
for the gallant of whom his herald had told 
her. 

His tongue came to him as he saw her half- 
scornful look, and he asked brusquely if she 
was that Mathilde, daughter of Earl Baldwin. 

She nodded, as disdaining speech with him, 
which so angered my lord, even while her 
loveliness inflamed him, that he cried, "And I 



1 62 Feudal Chateaux 

am William of Normandy, and I suffer no 
man or woman to insult me unpunished." 
With that he caught her by the arms and 
shook her as one shakes a vexing child. Then 
she, all unafeared and blazing with temper, 
turned up her little nose at him, crying, *' Un- 
hand me, thou dirty tanner ; I am not a calf- 
skin for thy vats ! " 

At this second insult to his mother and him- 
self, his rage so overcame him that he cuffed 
her and rolled her in the dust, in full view of 
a large concourse of townspeople, who came 
running at her screaming, her father also 
standinof transfixed with astonishment in his 
door. 

But my lord's anger vanished as quickly 
as it had risen, and he lifted her in his 
arms, she silent now and looking at him in 
wonder, but with neither fear nor anger. 
And he, crying, " Forgive me, proud mistress, 
but your words have given more pain than 
my unmannerly actions," set her gently on her 
feet, and so, head in air, strode back through 
the crowd to the inn. I followed greatly 
abashed, for I liked not to see the adventure 
end there, and I could hear Earl Baldwin 
bawling for his sword to avenge the indignity 
done his daughter. 



A Fool's Errands 163 

My lord slackened his pace at these shouts, 
and bade me go back and tell the Earl that 
he would meet him at Augi on the frontier, 
with his men-at-arms, and in battle or in sin- 
gle combat would give him satisfaction. His 
anger was gone, and he was red with shame. 

" God's death ! it was a scurvy trick to serve 
a lady," he muttered, " and the Earl may 
punish me as he likes. If we meet in battle 
he shall work his will and have no harm from 
me. Thou art my fittest messenger, Turold, 
for I have indeed come upon a fool's 
errand." 

I went back, therefore, with this message, 
which was half challenge, half apology, and I 
added, of my own impudence, that my lord 
rested his cause in the hands of the Lady Ma- 
thilde, and would do such penance as she 
pleased to ordain. When she heard that, 
she prayed her father to stay his answer, and 
called me apart into her bower, and bade me 
tell her more of my master, and what virtues 
there might be to offset his too quick temper. 
My lord's first messenger had spoken only 
of his bodily comeliness and prowess. " As 
to the first," she said, " I believe he spoke 
sooth, for so beautiful and terrible must St. 
George have looked to the dragon ; and he 



1 64 Feudal Chateaux 

must be a man of great courage and high dar- 
ing who could venture to beat me in my own 
father's presence." Then I, lamenting in my 
heart that I had not an eloquent tongue, 
poured out all my love for my young master. 

" It is an ill thing, gentle lady," said I, 
"when a pious, a loving, and a proud heart 
like my master's cannot obey that command- 
ment of Holy Church, ' Honor thy father and 
thy mother,' more especially as my master 
loved both of his parents with as great a pas- 
sion as that of sons whose affection is blent 
with reverence. And though his mother, the 
tanner's pretty daughter Arlette, had never a 
wedding-ring to her finger, and his father, 
Robert le Diable, well deserved his name, 
they showed each of them as great a devotion 
for their child as could the best of parents. 
For Duke Robert, when he heard that Arlette 
(whom he had hitherto loved but lightly,) was 
dead, and that she had commended her babe 
to him, was smitten with remorse and sent and 
fetched him from the tanner's house, named 
him William, and brought him up in his own 
castle, caring for him with a father's and 
mother's tenderness in one. There was no 
woman in Falaise castle, but Duke Robert 
sent for a learned clerk, Ordericus Vitalis, to 



A Fool's Errands 165 

be his son's tutor, while as yet the boy could 
scarcely talk, so that he learned Latin as soon 
as Norman French. He had in other boys to 
be his playfellows and schoolmates, I among 
them, and save that Odo was the subtler logi- 
cian, and another had the gift of eloquence, 
and Taillefer a knack of matching rhymes, 
our young master was the scholar of us all. 
He was so bewitched with the story of Cae- 
sar's ficrhtina- that he ever outran his stent, 
and then acted it all over in our play, building 
an oppidum and causing us to figure as Ario- 
vistus, Vercingetorix, and other Gauls, we 
getting broken heads as our share of this lusty 
sport. As for me, I was no scholard, but my 
fingers had a knack of drawing with a bit of 
charred stick, and my tongue found ever a 
saucy answer, so that Duke Robert marked 
me out, in spite of my small stature, and had 
me to Paris with his son, where I learned to 
be a painter, and, what is much the same, a 
fool. 

" It was when my young Lord William 
was seven years old that Duke Robert saw 
that his son had his spirit and his mother's 
beauty. Then he called his peers and vassals 
together in the great hall of his castle, and 
said, ' I go to Palestine for the shriving of my 



1 66 Feudal Chateaux 

soul, but I leave my dukedom in the ward of 
my dear friend and neighbour, Alan Fergeant 
of Brittany, who, though he is young, will 
govern wisely and faithfully until my return, 
or, if I die in this adventure, until the coming 
of age of this my son, whom I beseech you to 
accept as your lawful sovereign.' 

"And the lad bore himself so handsomely 
that Duke Robert's qtcens, for the love they 
bore him (^for he was a merry comrade and 
true, though a sinful man), raised the little 
William on their shields and swore fealty to 
him. Then Duke Robert took us to Paris 
to the court of King Henry, to be bred up at 
court. 

" This much is known of all, but what is 
not publicly known is that his mother died 
not, as was supposed. Her father had caused 
this report to be given out because Arlette 
foresaw what would follow ; namely, that Duke 
Robert would love her more truly dead than 
living, and that remorse would make of a false 
lover a true father. So she held herself in 
seclusion at the tannery, and none save her 
father knew that she lived, though she could 
see her son at play, drilling the boys as sol- 
diers ; and she remembered how, the day that 
he was born, when lying neglected on the 



A Fool's Errands 167 

floor (for she was thought to be dying), he had 
clenched his tiny hands on the straw, and the 
witch-wife who tended her said, ' He has begun 
early to clutch at things and what he seizes he 
will hold.' So, for the boy's good, she stifled 
her mother-hunger and kept from him until 
the day that her father told her that he had 
been publicly owned by the Duke as his son, 
and accepted by the lords as the heir to the 
dukedom, and that on the morrow he would 
go away. Then the yearning to kiss her son 
farewell was so strong within her that she 
veiled herself and came upon us as she saw us 
sporting by the river, and she kissed him full 
tenderly and wept. She had meant to do no 
more, but the passion of mother-love carried 
all before it, and she called him her son. 
Then when she had recovered herself she 
swore him to secrecy, saying, ' Thus only canst 
thou come to thy kingdom.' 

" But the boy had replied to her caresses,, 
and strove to dry her tears. ' Thou art a 
pretty woman,' he said, 'an thou dost not 
weep. I have never been kissed by a woman 
before ; thy breast is a sweet pillow, and thy 
cheek is soft, not bristly like my father's ; I 
knew not woman's love were so sweet ; I 
would rather have it than kingship.' 



1 68 Feudal Chateaux 

" ' Nay,' said she, ' kingship is better ; hold 
thou to that, and beware of love, for it is the 
undoing of man and woman, save indeed that 
love which asks for no love in return, only 
the good of that it loves, and the fierce joy 
of loving.' 

" We understood not then, for we were but 
children, but we kept the secret and my lord 
mused much upon it, and now and again he 
spoke to me of his mother at the French 
court. ' And if she holds lordship so precious 
who has loved so much,' he said, 'then I will 
keep my heart from love's tangles, and give 
myself only to ambition. But when I am 
come to my own again, I will search for my 
mother and she shall be lady of my father's 
castle.' But when we were come to Falaise 
his mother was dead in very sooth, and he 
could do nought to repay her self-sacrifice. 
So it is not so much shame for his lowly ori- 
gin as love and pity for his mother, and an- 
ger with his father, that fills my lord with fury 
at the word ' bastard.' " 

Mathilde had heard me thus far silently, but 
she spoke now. " I have misjudged him. I 
have heard of him before ; but his cousin Guy 
of Burgundy told me that he was as savage as 
the Viking pirate Rollo, from whom he is 



A Fool's Errands 169 

descended, a hater of women and cruel to men. 
Tell me, is it true, as Guy said, that on the tak- 
ing of the city of Alen9on he caused certain 
prisoners to be flayed alive ? " 

''Nay," I replied; "you have heard that 
story wrong. When Alan Fergeant faithfully 
delivered to him his kingdom, all his lords 
greeted his home-coming and came to his 
crowning, save only three or four, and his un- 
cle Mauger, his father's false brother. Bishop 
of Rouen. Then my lord understood that 
King Henry of France, knowing what an 
adventurous and ambitious spirit my master 
had, feared he would be no safe vassal and 
neighbour, and had plotted with Mauger to 
make Guy Duke of both Normandy and Brit- 
tany. But my lord was not angered, for he 
said : ' Guy is descended from Rollo as well 
as I, but through my aunt Alice, and were it 
not for the Salic law, he would have as good 
a ripfht to the dukedom ; we will fiofht for it 
even as Rollo did with the King of France, 
but there shall be no ill will between us, and 
the better man shall win.' 

"He forgave the daughter of William Tal- 
vas, Mabel Montgomery, who was his false 
hostess when as a boy he visited her castle 
and another lad was killed in his bed by her 



170 Feudal Chateaux 

brother OHver, though, as it was suspected, by 
her connivance. He bore her no ill will, I 
say, because of his love for her husband, 
Roger Montgomery, who stood by him and 
fought with him when Mabel had induced 
Geoffrey Foulque of Anjou to garrison and 
hold her castle of Alen^on against my lord. 

" But what he could not forgive, was that 
neat-skins were hung on the walls of the castle 
with the inscription, 'Work for the tanner.' 
My lord swore that they who did that should 
be flayed and their skins tanned and hung 
where the filthy insult had been displayed." 

" It was a hard sentence," quoth the Lady 
Mathilde, " but I understand him now ; 't is a 
loving nature turned bitter, and he who could 
thus avenee an insult to his mother would 
doubtless brook none to his wife." 

" Nay," I answered, " but hear me out. My 
lord's actions were less brutal than his threat. 
His anger is soon cooled, and when the das- 
tards fell into his hands he caused their hides 
to be tanned, but with a thong only, and left 
them on their backs to heal." 

My lady's eyes grew great with wonder. 
" He rolled me but gently," she murmured to 
herself, "doing injury only to my finery; and 
surely we were equals then not alone in our 



A Fool's Errands 171 

dusty appearance, for a foul tongue is more 
shame to its owner than a besmirched an- 
cestry ; we are quits, if he will forgive my 
shrewishness. But tell me, Sir Fool," and 
here she blushed, "since your master holds 
love as nothing to ambition, how is it that he 
loves me ? " 

"Fair lady," I replied, "though in verity it 
was ambition that first made him lift his 
thoughts to thee, when he saw thee his soul 
went out of his eyes, and doubt not that he 
loves thee truly." 

With that she laughed. " I guessed rightly 
then," she said, after a little space ; " my Saxon 
lineage and connexions will be helpful to him 
in his pretensions. I should have known that no 
one, however base-born, could truly love me." 

" Nay, Mistress," I plead again, " I swear to 
thee, love came at first sight." She smiled 
again, but there was no gladness in the smile. 

" Yea, Fool, my words were amiable and 
his actions loving ! I was not made for love. 

<z> 

Nevertheless, thou hast done thy duty well — 
't is a fool's wooing, and I am won, the more 
fool L" 

With that we went in to her father, and she 
said, " William of Normandy pleases me, and 
none other will I have for a husband." 



172 Feudal Chateaux 

The Earl laughed loudly, and swore that 
a maid's mind was beyond his wit, while his 
chaplain, who stood by, answered him, "Yea, 
my lord, for it is written, ' Mulier hominis con- 
fusio est' " 

So Earl Baldwin bade me answer that Duke 
William might meet him at Castle Augi, and 
there make happy reparation for his hastiness. 
" But by Our Lady ! " he said to his daughter, 
"an he roll you in the dust again, I will see 
that he rolls there too, never to arise." 

So these twain were wed. Earl Baldwin 
bestowed great grants of land and riches upon 
his daughter, and made a league with his son- 
in-law to help him with his soldiery and his 
substance at home and abroad, in peace and 
in war. The Lady Mathilde was gloriously 
apparelled, more in the guise of a queen than 
a bride, all in cloth of gold, with a mantle 
broidered with jewels, and a jewelled diadem 
instead of a wreath of orange flowers. And 
in penance for his savagery (the Duke would 
have it so), before he knelt with her at the 
altar, he knelt before .her at the church steps 
and laid his forehead on the stone, placing 
with his hands her dainty foot upon his head. 
And when she had suffered this very unwill- 
ingly^ she took off her satin slipper and bade 



A Fool's Errands 173 

me bear It for her as a thing precious, for it 
should never tread upon earth again ; and she 
walked to her marriage as a penitent, unshod 
save for her silken hose. 

That was a grand wedding, but where love 
is not there is no true marriage, and, though 
each loved the other and hungered for each 
other's love, they knew not that they had their 
desire, and so for long years they were but 
half wed. And here in sooth is a great mys- 
tery, that a man and his wife may so live and 
love, and strive in their very souls to be leal 
to one another, and to speak sooth and kind- 
ness — and yet may not fully know each other's 
hearts. And this misunderstanding came 
about from great desire of frankness, for 
before they went to church they did their best 
to make true confession to one another ; but 
words have not the power to carry right sense 
to those whose minds are perversely twisted 
to believe a contrary thing. The Lady Ma- 
thilde, believing that Duke William wedded 
her but to serve his ambitions, would receive 
no protestation of affection from him, but 
said, " My Lord, let us not deceive one an- 
other, for even if there be no pitch of love 
between us, with mutual respect and truth we 
may win happiness, and be great aid and 



174 Feudal Chateaux 

solace to one another, if only thou canst swear, 
as I do, that, whatever may have chanced in 
the past, thou are quit of all such entangle- 
ments of heart and lovest not in any other 
quarter." 

This she said as much to clear herself in his 
eyes (for she knew that her former infatuation 
was known) as to make her mind sure that she 
had no rival. He took the oath very gladly, 
for he had never loved any woman, and in his 
humbleness he asked no more of her than she 
offered, being exceeding thankful to have her 
on any terms. She, poor child, the while, be- 
cause he insisted not on her love, fancied that 
he did not desire it — such a plague it is for 
man and woman to come to any understand- 
ing. This state of things endured for years, 
my master loving the very ground on which 
his wife trod, but mastering himself to treat 
her at all times with stately reverence, and 
submitting himself to her gentle tyranny. He 
had the discernment to see that, while he had 
valour and strength of mind and body for the 
carrying out of great enterprises, she had the 
wit for planning them, and he was content to 
be hand and arm to her head. They had each 
a great fondness for building, and many were 
the plans which the clerk Gundulph and I 



A Fool's Errands 175 

drew up under their direction. The old cas- 
tles of Normandy were all of one pattern. 
One huge, rough tower, called the donjon- 
keep, was the residence of the lord and his 
family. This keep in early times was round, 
though now we build them square, with square 
turrets at each angle, and a buttress up the 
centre of the front. There were other smaller 
towers near by, which were the outbuildings of 
the castle, and the lodging of the garrison, and 
contributed, with the connecting wall, to the 
defence. Outside the walls was a moat or 
river. Across this moat went the drawbridee 
of the sally-port, and beyond the moat were 
warders' towers for the further defence of the 
entrance, and a stockaded barnyard, or bailey, 
into which the cattle and horses were driven 
at night. 

Our Norman castles were indeed but a 
mixture of grange and fortress, and no fit 
habitation for a delicate lady. It irked my 
dear lord sore to bring his bride to his ances- 
tral castle at Falaise. There had not been a 
Duchess of Normandy for fifty years, — since 
the time of my lord's grandmother, whom 
none of us had known, so that there was no 
provision for so fair a dove in this eagle's nest. 
The great keep was fit only for men, and for 



176 Feudal Chateaux 

men of war. The first story held the provisions 
and munitions ; the second was a great kitchen 
and dining-hall in one, with fireplace and bake 
ovens at one end, where the cook turned the 
spit that roasted a quarter of an ox, while the 
steward served at table at the other end. In 
the thickness of the wall, which was double 
and filled in with rubble, were the staircase and 
various passages, closets, and secret hiding- 
places. The third floor was the hall of assem- 
bly, or great hall of the castle, in which the 
Duke received his quens. There was a fire- 
place here, but the chamber was so large that 
it was cold even when great logs were blazing, 
and the benches on each side of the chimney 
had high backs to keep off the wind. The 
bed, which stood in one corner, was fended 
from the room with heavy curtains. There 
was a great oaken table near the fireplace 
on which was an inkhorn, and in presses in 
the wall were a good store of manuscripts. 
There were chests for linen and clothing which 
served also for seats. The dogs were free of 
the room, for his hounds were my lord's pets. 
There were stairs and doors leading up to the 
parapets, and a great opening in the middle of 
the floor whereby stones and engines of war 
could be hoisted from the cellars by means of 



^ r^^s^-^^^ntiT^^ 







A Fool's Errands 177 

a windlass In case of siege, but this opening 
was closed with a trap-door in time of peace. 
There was at one corner of this great hall a 
little room hollowed in the masonry of the 
thick wall, called formerly My Lady's Chamber. 
It had been the bower of my lord's grandame, 
but after she died it went by the name of the 
haunted turret, for some prattled that they 
had seen a white face looking from its narrow 
window. There were those who were bold 
enough to say that Duke Robert le Diable 
kept Arlette, the tanner's daughter, hidden 
there. The old castles throughout Nor- 
mandy were no better than this, saving that at 
Arques, which was Bishop Odo's, and went for 
the most luxurious habitation in the province, 
though there were no women there either. 
It was also the strongest fortress on the Chan- 
nel. Odo was a fighting bishop, and though 
from his vows he could not use a sword, his 
mace was heavy and the muscles of his arm 
stood out from use of it. He needed many 
outbuildings for barracks, for he had many 
retainers. 

My lord would have put off his marriage 
until he could have received his Duchess in 
state, but when he told her of this at Augi, 
before their wedding, she replied that she 



178 Feudal Chateaux 

would liefer go to his eyrie on the crags of 
Falaise, and there plan with him the building 
of their new home — which pleased my lord 
well. He fitted up the haunted turret as best 
he could for her boudoir, and I painted posies 
and love-mottoes in gay letters along the tim- 
ber rafters. I painted also a little picture of 
the Madonna in the niche which was the tur- 
ret oratory, and the Virgin had the face of 
La Belle Mathilde as I remembered it. The 
seats alonof the wall in the orreat hall were 
newly covered with skins of wolf and bear, the 
floor was strewn with rushes, the walls were 
hung with armour and with antlers of deer ; 
in the centre of the room was a great brazen 
lamp hung by chains, kept burning all night 
for fear of ghosts, and the chimney-piece was 
cunningly chopped by means of an axe in zig- 
zags. The two stone pillars had cushion- 
shaped capitals, and the shelf held many new 
silver flagons and platters. It was a good 
enough place for men, but when I thought of 
Earl Baldwin's palace in the city of Lille, with 
its silken curtains, its soft carpets, its paint- 
ings and tapestries and embossed leathers 
and other luxuries, I wondered whether our 
Duchess would not pine in this warrior-like 
abode ; but we need have had no fears. The 



A Fool's Errands 179 

moment Duke William lifted her from her pal- 
frey she clapped her hands in glee, and ran 
ahead of him, exploring the castle. She found 
of herself her own face in the Madonna, 
which I painted to signify that she was the 
object of my lord's devotions ; but my lord, 
who knew nothing of my work till that mo- 
ment, had not the quickness of mind or the 
dishonesty to take the credit of it, but said, 
right stupidly, that it was " some foolishness 
of Turold's." 

With that she looked at me very gravely. 
" 'T is like, if thou canst weave such pictures 
with thy fingers, that the romance thou didst 
recount to me at Lille has little more of truth 
in it." And I knew that I had not helped my 
lord's cause as I had hoped to do. 

She brought with her many chests of house- 
hold linen, and fine garments garnished with 
lace, and silver flagons and candlesticks, but 
no maids or serving-people, for she had the 
good sense to know that these might quarrel 
with her husband's people ; and she had set 
herself to make us all love her, which she 
presently effected, from Bishop Odo to my 
insignificance. As for the quens, — Alan Fer- 
geant, Raoul de Grace, Roger de Beaumont, 
Fitz Osborn, Roger Montgomery, Geoffrey 



i8o Feudal Chateaux 

Martel, Hugh de Grantmesnil, WilHam de 
Warenne, Taillefer the minstrel, and the rest, 
— they were hers to a man. But she was not 
content with the homage of mankind. They 
must all bring their mothers, their wives, their 
sweethearts, and their sisters, all of whom loved 
her excepting the false-hearted Mabel Mont- 
gomery ; and at last we had a true court in 
Normandy. There were great hunting parties, 
for my lord loved hunting beyond any pastime, 
and to pleasure him my lady learned to follow 
the deer at his side. There were church festi- 
vals, with processions to holy shrines, to the 
content of Bishop Odo ; and there was dancing 
as well as feasting at our castle, with harpers 
and other musicians ; and the songs of the min- 
strels were cleaner ; and I cudgelled my brains 
for jests fit for ladies' ears, which would raise 
the laugh without the blush. 

When the wind whistled ice and snow upon 
us from the north, she set up her broidery 
frame and taught the women to broider tap- 
estry. For this work I was set to draw 
patterns, and Bishop Odo was for sacred sub- 
jects, from the lives of the saints, for the 
Church ; but nothing would content my master 
but she must broider the story of Caesar's con- 
quest of Gaul. And she promised that both 



A Fool's Errands i8i 

should be pleasured, and she did It in her 
own way, — as I shall tell you in the sequel, lest 
I outrun my story. 

All was not sunshine, however, for though 
Guy of Burgundy had owned himself beaten, 
Mauger was for revenge by underhand 
means. He declared that the Duke and 
Duchess were within bonds of relationship 
banned to wedlock, and excommunicated 
them, declaring their marriage illegal. 

When my lord heard that, he cried, " I spit 
upon his excommunication, and Odo shall beat 
him out of Rouen with his men-at-arm.s, and 
take his bishopric." But he grew white as he 
thought what a curse that word " illegitimate" 
had been to him. His own children were 
coming now : the lads, Robert Curthose, short 
and sturdy, named for the old Duke ; William 
Rufus, ruddy as his father, and the child of 
his heart, for he had both his face and name ; 
there was little Cicely too, but Henry and the 
other girls came later. Henry was ever a 
lonely child, for his mother loved her first- 
born best ; so Henry was left to Lanfranc and 
the love of books, and they called him Henry 
Beau Glerc. At last, when his father lay 
dying, he asked, " Since Robert has Nor- 
mandy and William England, what shall I 



1 82 Feudal Chateaux 

have?" and his father answered, "Have pa- 
patience, and it may so chance that thou have 
England and Normandy. If not, patience is 
best of all." 

My lord could not abide that the word 
" Bastard" should be written after the name of 
any son of his, and Lanfranc, having the 
oiliest tongue amongst us all, was posted off 
to Rome to wheedle the Pope, which he did 
to such purpose that his Holiness declared the 
excommunication off and the marriage sound 
if the Duke would build an abbey for holy 
monks, and the Duchess one for nuns. This 
was exactly to their mind, for, as I have said, 
they had each a passion for building. Lan- 
franc had brought back with him some draw- 
ings of churches in Rome, and Gundulph was 
sent to see the abbey church of Cluny, 
thought to be the best in France, while I 
brought out the plans and studies I had made 
in Paris. Our buildings were mostly of rough 
stone, whose wide, uneven joints were filled in 
with plaster, with much use of timber. There 
was hardly a stone-vaulted ceiling in all Nor- 
mandy ; the roofs were of wood, pointed like a 
hat, and raftered within. But now there was a 
great improvement, and fair round arches grew 
to barrel vaulting, and that to groined vaulting. 



A Fool's Errands 183 

Gundulph chose Caen for the site of the 
abbeys, because the stone of Calvados was 
fine, and there was an abundance of it. My 
lord sent for stone-cutters and masons, and he 
built not alone the Abbey aux Hommes to 
St. Stephen, over which he made Lanfranc 
abbot (saying, " This honour shalt thou have 
now and a greater hereafter "), and the Abbey 
of Holy Trinity for virgins nobly born, but 
here at Caen he built also a greater castle 
than that of Falaise, to be his palace. 

My lady had spent long hours at the* ora- 
tory beseeching a blessing on Lanfranc's 
errand, and when he returned successful she 
had a softer, gayer look than I had ever seen 
in her face, and she said to me, "Now that 
this curse of Mauger's is removed, we shall be 
happy." 

But it was not Mauger's curse which had 
made the trouble at first ; and my lord had 
been so used to seeing her cold and stately, 
never failing in any wifely duty, but treating 
him ever with calm indifference, that he did 
not mark the flutter of hope in her face, and 
it presently died out as he grew more and 
more absorbed in his building. His construc- 
tions at Caen were not the only ones, for he 
built a chain of fortresses on the coast, and 



1 84 Feudal Chateaux 

made the harbours more commodious, and 
buih a great pier at Cherbourg ; and the 
overseeing of these works, together with the 
repulsing of two invasions and the conquering 
of the county of Maine, necessitated many- 
long journeys, so that he was much from 
home. 

But at last this was all over, and we had 
forsaken the old castle of Falaise and were set- 
tled in Caen. And now that there seemed 
nothing to be done for the strengthening of 
his kingdom of Normandy, one would have 
thought that my lord might have taken pleas- 
ure in his home ; but it was not to be. He 
looked on his wife's love for their son Robert 
with a sort of jealousy, and whenever Robert 
kissed his mother he would stride from the 
room. Idleness irked him also, and he grrew 
moody and irritable. My mistress saw this, 
and strove to interest him with changes in the 
castle, making it still more lordly or stronger 
in its defences, and any of us who could devise 
such changes were bidden to lay them before 
him. It was then that Lanfranc told of a vil- 
lainous contrivance that he had heard of in 
Italy in the way of a prison dungeon, being 
a very grewsome well or pit, into which pris- 
oners were lowered with ropes never to be 



A Fool's Errands 185 

taken out again, or into which they were let 
fall by the dropping of the floor, trap-door- 
wise, from a fair guest-room in the tower 
above, the machinery being operated (when 
the guest was well within) from without the 
door like the hoisting and lowering of a 
drawbridge. 

" And how call you so devilish a contri- 
trivance ? " asked my lady. 

"It is called an oubliette, Sweetheart," said 
my lord; "the word cometh from oublier (to 
forget). By God's death, it were a handy 
thing to have such a pit, well garnished with 
knives, beneath a sweetly furnished chamber ! 
Then if any guest chanced to come who had 
offended us past forgiveness, we could easily 
there forget both sin and sinner." 

But my lady cried, "That were treachery, 
my lord. Let the transgressor suffer his 
doom either in battle or in open judgment, 
but let there be no murder in our house." 

My lord knew that she was right, and there 
was no oubliette of this sort made in our castle, 
nor in all Normandy save at Alencon, but he 
answered her roughly then, and many times 
thereafter. Coming in suddenly one morning 
I found her sobbing alone, and, when I asked 
what ailed her, in the distraction of her grief 



1 86 Feudal Chateaux 

she repHed, ** Thou canst see well enough, 
Turold, that my lord loves me not. Sweet 
Saviour ! what is it that he lacks in me ? " 

" Naught, dear lady," I protested, not know- 
ing what I said, I was so distraught by the 
sight of her grief. " I have heard him declare 
you perfect. And I know that other than 
you, he hath never loved woman. It may be 
that he is brooding over great enterprises, for 
such a man as he can never have enouQrh of 
them." 

" Think you so, Turold ? " she cried. " Then 
I must make myself a part of his ambition, 
and not hold him back from it." 

From that time she began to set his mind 
again on the heirship of the English crown. 
Edward the Confessor was now an old man 
and childless ; and Duke William by his mar- 
riage had strengthened his pretensions. The 
Duchess therefore persuaded her husband to 
visit his relative, and she begged to be taken 
with him ; but to this the Duke would not 
consent, and her very desire wakened unjust 
suspicions in his heart. I found him walking 
alone and talking to himself. " Why should 
she wish to go to England, since Brihtric 
Meaw is there, and she swore to me long since 
that her love for him was dead ? " 



A Fool's Errands 187 

** Please you, my master," I made bold to 
say, " it is for that very reason that my mis- 
tress would show this man what a great mar- 
riage she has made, and what a fair husband 
she hath, for it is but the nature of women as 
well as men to triumph over them who have 
done them despite." 

"Thou art right, Turold," the Duke cried, 
" and by the splendour of God (it was a great 
oath and his favourite) she shall have her 
triumph, but not now, since I go as a sup- 
pliant ; nevertheless she shall have her fill of 
triumph in good time." 

So Duke William went to England, and the 
King received him well and made him many 
fair promises, for he was old and cared not 
what strife there was for the kingship after 
him, so there was peace while he lived. 
Harold, who stood nearer the throne and 
held himself the rightful heir, looked on this 
intimacy with suspicion, nevertheless he was 
outwardly friendly. So, after the Duke had 
returned, he had him to visit us at Caen. 
This was the Duchess's plan, — " For," said she, 
'*we will gain the kingship by alliance and 
friendly treaty if we can, but if courtesy fails 
then thou shalt have thy way." 

All men know what came of that visit, and 



1 88 Feudal Chateaux 

that Duke WilHam told Harold, while hunting 
with him, of his design of claiming the Eng- 
lish crown on the death of Edward, and that 
Harold not only privately promised the Duke, 
but took the most solemn oaths before his 
lords to support his claim. As Harold was in 
his host's power when he made this treaty, 
my master had no great confidence in his 
good faith, and my mistress counselled him to 
make it to Harold's interest to keep his oath. 
My lord therefore bade him choose a bride 
among his daughters, promising that he should 
be his son-in-law and heir to England, and that 
he would provide for his sons in Normandy. 
The Duke's daughters were a fair garland of 
sweet flowers, whereof Cicely, the eldest, was 
fair and stately as a lily. She had been con- 
secrated at her birth to the Church, and later 
became abbess of Holy Trinity. She was 
then at home, but the shadow of her approach- 
ing separation from her family rested upon 
her and kept her constantly at her mother's 
side. The others were but little girls, and 
whereas I was of diminutive stature they 
thought me a child, and treated me ever as 
one of themselves, I played with them, and 
taught them, and little by little as they over- 
topped me in stature they looked down upon 



A Fool's Errands 189 

me in more ways than that, and though ever 
kind, never gave me credit for having the feel- 
ings of a man. Agatha was the beauty and 
rose of them all, and next in age to Cicely. 

There came other wooers at this time : 
young Stephen, Earl of Blois, and Alan Fer- 
geant. Earl of Brittany, whom, though he was 
older than himself, Duke William was glad to 
have for his son-in-law, both because he owed 
him much for keeping his duchy for him dur- 
ing his minority, and because he could render 
him the same and other service while he 
was absent in England. Agatha could have 
had either of these lovers, or another whose 
love she never suspected, but to whom she 
confided her secrets, sure of his sympathy and 
loyalty, who tore his hair and beat his breast 
at night and all but cursed his Maker who had 
given him a man's eyes and a man's heart in 
a pigmy body. 

But Agatha mocked at the Earl of Brittany 
as a grandsire, and the Earl of Blois as a 
dullard, so that these were fain to content 
themselves later on with her sisters Constance 
and Adela, for the blue eyes and yellow hair 
of the Saxon Harold had made an even deeper 
impression upon Agatha than the same blond 
beauty of Brihtric had upon her mother. He 



T90 Feudal Chateaux 

was a young prince of haughty demeanour, 
and he dressed in the fantastic fashion of the 
Saxons, his beard shorn all but his upper lip, 
and his arms laden with golden bracelets and 
pictured with figures pounced in the fair skin. 
Though a barbarian there was something he- 
roic about him which caught the young girl's 
fancy. It was doubtless but to insure his own 
safety, that he made some show of affection 
for his betrothed, and would hold the skeins 
of silk that she wound, and watch the slender 
form droop over the tapestry frame on which 
she embroidered his likeness. As she painted 
thus with her needle she often looked at him 
very fixedly, and on one such occasion he 
asked her the meaning of her gaze. 

" I am trying to look through your eyes into 
your soul," she answered ; " but all is not open 
and clear there. You do not love me, Harold, 
and something tells me that you will forget the 
promises made upon French soil." 

But Harold took her hand in his and swore : 
" I will be as true as the stars. When you see 
one of them wandering among the fixed con- 
stellations, then Harold will wander from his 
love. When one of heaven's steadfast lights 
flies away from its place, nevermore to return 
to its shining companions, then you may doubt 



A Fool's Errands 191 

that Harold will return. Dry your tears, my 
Agatha, for I will be true — as true as the 
stars." 

Then Harold went his way, and the days 
that followed were long and lonely for Ag- 
atha. Her brother Robert reproached her, 
for his father had forced him to relinquish to 
Harold any claim that future events might 
give him to the heirship of England. 

" Thou shalt have Normandy, Robert, and 
thou shalt wed the heiress of the Duke of 
Maine, and that," said the Duke, " must con- 
tent thee." 

But Robert was not content, and he visited 
his displeasure upon his sister, until Edward 
the Confessor died, and Harold, repudiating 
his promises to William of Normandy and to 
Agatha, caused himself to be proclaimed King 
of England, and married Edyth, widow of the 
King of Wales. 

When my lord received this news he could 
not speak for wrath, but stood tying and unty- 
ing the cordon of his cloak ; but my mistress's 
words came easily enough, and her indigna- 
tion was greater for the affront put upon her 
daughter than that Harold had seized the 
crown from her husband. My lord could not 
fail to mark this, and he understood that his 



192 Feudal Chateaux 

wife endured again the bitterness of her own 
rejection. 

"I should have known," she cried, "that it 
is not possible for a Saxon to love, or hold 
faith. Would that there had been an oubliette 
beneath his couch ! then would he never have 
departed from this house." 

This she said in the first frenzy of her 
anger, but her husband gave more weight to 
her words than he should, and they rankled in 
his heart, while his face grew fixed with an 
awful purpose. 

" My wife and daughter shall be avenged," 
he said to me ; " 't is not alone for ambition 
that I would conquer England now. I have 
had a look into my wife's heart, and at last I 
understand her." 

"Then," said I, "now that you know you 
have the love of such a heart, methinks you 
should count yourself richer than if England 
were already yours." 

But his face grew grey. " Her love, Turold, 
is what I shall never have. I deceived myself — 
she never pretended to love me ; I hoped it 
might come, but she has no capacity left 
for loving. All the passion that was in her 
soul she gave to Brihtric Meaw. It is his still, 
but turned to hate, which is but the rebound and 



A Fool's Errands 193 

other side of love. For me she has only 
friendship. For me — who am eaten through 
and through with love of her. God's death ! if 
she but cared enough for me to hate me as 
she hates that man ! But if I were false to 
her she would smile as coldly as ever. Still I 
must thank her hate ; it is to that I owe that I 
have her at all." 

" That is a hard riddle," I made answer. 

" Did you not cell me when you came from 
wooing her for me, that Guy had told her 
falsely of my savagery to certain of my prison- 
ers, how I had caused them to be flayed alive, 
and that at that word she cried, * He who could 
so punish his mother's traducers, would in 
like manner avenge an insult to his wife ' ? It 
was for this she married me, Turold, not for 
love, but for revenge. All these years she has 
waited for it, and it is no wonder that she 
despises me for a laggard and a coward. She 
longed to be Lady of Gloucester ; she shall 
be that, and Queen of England too, and 
Brihtric of the Snow shall lie whiter and colder 
than ever when I tie the keys of his castle 
to her chatelaine. But look you, Turold, that 
she know not that I have guessed her secret. 
She would think I married her from com- 
passion, whereas she desired love and has had 



194 Feudal Chateaux 

it. It may be that the knowledge of this may 
have been some small solace to her, as it is my 
fierce happiness to serve." 

I was powerless to make my lord under- 
stand matters other than in this warped fashion, 
and indeed I had little opportunity for coming" 
at him, for now he was taken up with prepara- 
tions for the invasion of England. He called to- 
gether the quens and told them of his project. 
At first they were not wholly minded to the 
enterprise, for they feared the sea, and were 
not bound by their feudal tenure to serve be- 
yond it ; but Bishop Odo set the example and 
Fitz Osborn so wrought upon them by pictur- 
ing the Saxon spoils and honours which would 
be theirs, that they not only consented to pass 
overseas but to double their accustomed hom- 
age, so that he who was bound to furnish 
twenty men-at-arms promised forty, and he 
who owed an hundred agreed to furnish forth 
two. The Duke was not satisfied with what 
he could raise in his own dominion, but he in- 
vited his neighbours the Bretons, the Angevins, 
and the men of Boulogne to join his banner, 
the Earl of Flanders coming forward as he had 
agreed with supplies of men and ships. This 
was not for the sake of his daughter Mathilde 
alone, but because his other daughter had 



A Fool's Errands 195 

married Tostig, the brother of Harold, and this 
Tostig had been shut out by Harold from 
his Northumbrian earldom, and was now 
M^aging war on the north coast of England, 
having- secured the aid of the Kinsf of Nor- 
way. 

Our Duchess was of great assistance in 
cementing a league with her family, for she 
took great interest in the invasion. She also 
caused to be built from her private coffers, and 
as a surprise to her husband, a splendid vessel 
of war, which he made the flagship of his fleet. 
The Duke had even sought to make an ally 
of the King of France, who made sport of 
the scheme, asking him with some significance, 
" Who would take care of his duchy while he 
was running on such a fool's errand ? " To 
which half-disguised threat Duke William had 
replied, " That is a care that shall not need to 
trouble our neighbours ; by the grace of God 
we are blessed with a prudent wife and loving 
subjects, who will keep our border securely 
during our absence." 

The King of Spain was more friendly, for 
he sent aid and a present for the Duke, a 
magnificent horse royally caparisoned, and he 
desired an alliance in case the Duke was suc- 
cessful in this venture ; the Pope also sent him 



196 Feudal Chateaux 

a splendid banner which he had blessed. The 
design upon this banner was a comet embroid- 
ered in gold, with the legend, ''Nova Stella 
Nov2Ls Rex,'' for about this time a wonder had 
appeared in the heavens which was thought to 
augur success to the Normans, and indeed 
had been foretold by Saxon seers in rude 
rhyme : 

" In the year ten hundred and sixty-six 
A comet an end to the Saxon shall fix." 

There was one who looked upon this comet 
with other significance. Agatha was standing 
at a window looking away toward England 
when it flashed like a scimitar across the star- 
lit sky. When she saw it she fell in a faint, 
and when I brought her to herself with chaf- 
ing of her hands, she murmured, " Harold 
hath broken no promise to me, for his star 
wandereth." Full gladly would I have con- 
soled her stricken heart with my love, but she 
was smitten too sorely. I knew also that 
though the Duke felt that he owed me much, 
in that I had not hesitated to go upon two of 
his most important errands, and had both 
saved his life and won for him his bride, yet 
was he too proud a man to suffer his daughter 
to wed so meanly. Therefore I kept silence, 



A Fool's Errands 197 

striving to attain to that state which Arlette 
told us was best of all, namely, the love which 
asks no love in return, and no recompense but 
the good of that it loves. 

No sooner had the expedition departed 
than tapestry frames were set up in the great 
hall of the castle and our Duchess gathered 
her ladies to beguile the absence of their kins- 
men by embroidering all the history of the 
Conquest. It was a great undertaking, but 
there were many hands, and as fast as we had 
tidings I made a picture of what had befallen, 
and from this the dames took their patterns. 
It was thus that our Duchess fulfilled her 
promise to her husband and to Bishop Odo, 
for she made the Duke her hero and depicted 
his exploits instead of those of Caesar ; and 
she planned the tapestry of sufficient length 
(230 feet) to compass the nave of Bayeux 
Cathedral, thus greatly contenting the Bishop 
with this magnificent gift. There are in this 
tapestry upwards of 1400 figures, of which 623 
are men and women, 762 are animals, 37 cas- 
tles, and 41 ships. These figures were com-*''^ 
bined in 72 pictures, separated from each other 
by trees, and described by Latin inscriptions, 
beginning with a view of Harold taking leave 
of Edward the Confessor before his departure 



igS Feudal Chateaux 

for Normandy, and showing the events of his 
visit in Normandy. Among these was an attack 
which my lord made upon a castle in Brittany, 
to reach which we crossed the treacherous 
sands of St. Michel, where Harold rescued 
two men, pulling them from the quicksand.-^ 
It was Agatha's will that this honourable deed 
of his should be commemorated, and she 
wrought it with her own hand, leaving to 
others the task of depicting his treachery in 
accepting the crown of England. 

We had laboured thus far when a galley 
brought the news of the battle of Hastings 
and the death of Harold ; and that our lord 
was to be known no longer as Duke William 
of Normandy, but as William the Conqueror, 
King of England. From that time the work 
on the tapestry galloped joyfully, save that 
one seat, that of the Lady Agatha, was vacant, 
for she was ill of a fever. So other hands 
embroidered the appearance of the comet, the 
council of the Norman chiefs presided over 
by Bishop Odo concerning the invasion, and 
all the details brought us by the messengers 
of the disembarkation of our men in England, 

' This panel of the tapestry bears the inscription, " Hie Harold 
dux traherat eos de arena." The rather comical representation of 
Mont St. Michel in the background is the oldest existing picture of 
the castle. In another panel appears a portrait of Turold. 



A Fool's Errands 199 

the march to Hastings, the formation of a 
camp, and setting up of the wooden castle 
which Gundulph made in Normandy and 
which was carried over in pieces. 

Most admirable of all was the battle itself, 
with the onset of the English, the shower of 
darts hurtling against the shields and the 
bright mail of the Norman horsemen, the 
wounded and the dying lying in piteous state 
and trampled beneath the hoofs of the horses. 
All of the chief personages were most careful 
portraits, and among these our lady, whom 
now I must call la reine Mathilde, would have 
it that I should make one of my insignific- 
ance. 

My lord had much further fighting in Eng- 
and to thoroughly take the land, and to keep 
that he gained, all of which he effected with as 
much wisdom as valour ; instituting good laws 
and providing for their thorough execution, in 
which difficult undertaking he far exceeded 
even Caesar himself. So soon as the country 
was pacified he had his wife come to England, 
with a magnificent train of noblemen and 
ladies, to be crowned at Winchester. So 
great a pageant had never been seen before in 
the kingdom, both at the church and at the 
great banquet at the castle, where the King 



200 Feudal Chateaux 

caused the Queen to create many new offices 
and to bestow benefices, thus adding to her 
power and popularity, and signifying that she 
reigned in equal sovereignty with himself. 
Among the offices then created for all future 
coronations was that of the " Championship." 
The Kinor had ordained that a handsome 
young cavalier, Marmion of Fontenaye, should 
ride into the great banqueting-hall, and having 
curveted around the table, repeat three times 
this challenge : " If any person denies that our 
most gracious sovereign. Lord William, and 
his spouse IMathilde are King and Queen of 
England, he is a false-hearted traitor and liar ; 
and here I as Champion do challenge him to 
single combat." No person accepted this 
challenge, though there were many Saxon 
chiefs in the hall, and the King had made 
proclamation that any who wished should 
be provided with horse and armour and be 
given a fair field. Among those who heard 
this challenge was a prisoner who had been 
closely guarded in the dungeons of Winchester 
since his capture, Brihtric Meaw, Thane of 
Gloucester. For a moment he drew himself 
up and looked at the knight, and in that 
instant my lord's hand sought his sword. 
" By the splendour of God, " I heard him say, 



A Fool's Errands 201 

*' if he accept the challenge, not Marmion but 
I will fight him in this presence." But the 
Thane's spirit was broken and he crawled 
forward on his knees and submitted the keys 
of Gloucester, which my lord fastened, as he 
had promised, to his wife's chatelaine, saying 
that the life of the prisoner was in her hands. 
Whereat she made answer indifferently that 
his life or death had long ceased to be matter 
of interest to her, and that she desired never 
to see nor hear mention of him more. Where- 
upon a great light flashed across my lord's 
face, and he bade them let the prisoner go free ; 
but that he should leave the kingdom and 
take some other name, so that his wife's wish 
might be regarded. And as few heard this 
order, and naught was known of Brihtric there- 
after, the report went out that he had been 
slain in his dungeon, and privately buried. 
My lord was very happy after this, for the 
suspicions and torments of eighteen years were 
lifted from his mind, for he knew that if the 
Queen had not hated Brihtric to the death, as 
he had imagined, then she had never deeply 
loved him either. So at last his heart was 
gay, and he was so merry that he distributed 
largesse on every hand, and made many whim- 
sical and merry honours ; among others that of 



202 Feudal Chateaux 

the " Grand Panetier, " who bore the salt and 
bread from the pantry, which was done grace- 
fully on this occasion by a page called Beau- 
champs, to whom he gave the salt-cellars, 
knives, and spoons which he had laid on the 
table, together with a fair manor. To the 
cook also, who tickled his palate with a Nor- 
man soup, he gave the manor of Addington. 

So it was a great day, and a joyful one, and 
my lord's heart was at rest, for at last he 
knew without doubt that his wife loved him. 
While she was in England they planned 
together seventeen great castles, among which 
were the Tower of London, Dover, and 
Rochester in Kent, Newcastle in Northumber- 
land, Appleby and Carlisle in Cumberland, 
Brougham in Westmoreland, Richmond and 
Conisborough in Yorkshire, Porchester in 
Hampshire, Guildford in Surrey, Goodrich 
in Herefordshire, Norwich and Castle Rising 
in Norfolk, and Hedingham and Colchester 
in Essex. Roger Montgomery, also, who had 
been foremost among his followers, he made 
Earl of Arundel and Shrewsbury, and for him 
named a great shire. He was a good man 
though his wife was evil. 

But the governance of two kingdoms is not 
an easy thing, so that my lord and lady were 



A Fool's Errands 203 

much separated in their later life ; he govern- 
ing in England and she in Normandy, where 
she was greatly beloved. Her favourite re- 
sidence was ever the castle of Caen, and there 
she had ever near her her daughter Cicely, 
the Abbess of Holy Trinity. This abbey the 
Queen loved dearly, bestowing upon it the 
lands which had belonged to Brihtric Meaw, 
which the King had given her, and many 
other rich gifts of embroidered mantles and 
robes to be made into vestments, and silver 
plate ; and all these bequests were made with 
the consent of the Kingf. Save that he still 
thought her love for their son Robert over- 
weening, there never came cloud betwixt them, 
nor was I ever separated from service to 
my sweet lady but on one dolorous errand, 
which fell out in this wise : The Lady Agatha 
greatly desired to become a nun, but this her 
father would in no wise suffer, saying that the 
Church had its full tithe and more in Cicely. 
Therefore when the King of Spain plead 
the promised alliance, he betrothed Agatha 
to Alonzo of Galicia. Agatha besought her 
father with tears not to force her to wed this 
Prince, but he was not to be turned from his 
purpose. Her mother also chid the maid 
gently, telling her her own story, how she 



204 Feudal Chateaux 

had deemed in her youth that she loved 
another, whereas It was but the romantic va- 
pouring of a girl's mind. I was deputed with 
others to take this most reluctant bride to her 
bridegroom. All the way she prayed that the 
Most High would take her to Himself before 
she should be transported to Spain, so that 
my heart was torn within me. We journeyed 
very slowly, on account of her feebleness and 
sadness, and her prayers were answered, for 
God granted her a virgin death before we 
reached the frontier. Returning with her lit- 
tle body, we buried it with many tears in 
Bayeux, in the Church of St. Mary the Per- 
petual Virgin. 

Our noble Queen died also about this time, 
at her castle at Caen. As she felt her end 
approaching she notified her husband, who 
hastened to her overseas, and was with her at 
her death. He would not allow the sapphire 
ring which he had given her to be taken 
from her finger, and caused her to be buried 
with great solemnity as befits a good queen, 
in the church of the Abbey of Holy Trinity, 
which she had founded. Sorrowino- exceed- 
ingly he caused to be traced upon her mag- 
nificent tomb, in letters of gold, these words 
in fair Latin : 



A Fool's Errands 205 

" Here rests within this fair and stately tomb, 
Matilda, scion of a regal line ; 
The Flemish duke her sire, and Adelais 
Her mother, to great Robert, King of France, 
Daughter, and sister to his royal heir ; 
In wedlock to our mighty William joined. 
She built this holy temple, and endowed 
With lands and goodly gifts. She, the true friend 
Of piety and soother of distress. 
Enriching others, indigent herself, 
Reserving all her treasures for the poor ; 
And, by such deeds as these, she merited 
To be partaker of eternal life : 
To which she passed Nov. 2, 1083." 

After his gentle lady died my master never 
listened to quip or jest, nor could I have 
uttered one at his bidding, for our hearts were 
broken. When, to hearten him, one evening 
I spoke of the wonderful success of his great 
expedition to England, and the glory of the 
coronation at Winchester, he smiled and said, 
"Yea, Turold, that was the crowning of my 
life ; but had I not then learned my wife's 
love, all that invasion with its great victories, 
yea, and my whole life, would have been but a 
fool's errand." 

After a stormy evening to his splendid day 
they laid him to rest (who never rested before) 
in his Abbey of St. Stephen, where I have 
begged that I too may be buried, like a faith- 



2o6 Feudal Chateaux 

ful hound (his Httle monkey), at my master's 
feet, praying that this last quest of mine, the 
search for Heaven, be not like the other illy 
accomplished ventures of my life, the errand 
of a Fool. 

And whereas many slanderous and lying 
chronicles have been written of my dear lord 
and lady, I, than whom none can know better, 
have writ out this story, for the solace and at 
the request of the saintly Abbess of Holy 
Trinity, the Lady Cicely. Given at the Ab- 
bey of St. Stephen in Caen, in the year of our 
redemption 1090, by Turold, whilom jester 
to King William, now lay brother and illum- 
inator in the Scriptorium of the Abbey.^ 



Of Queen Mathilde a French author writing 
in her son's reign says : " La quele jadis quant 
for pucelle Aima con conte d'Angleterre, 
Brihtric Mau, le oi nomer, Apres le roi ki for 
riche vir. A lui la pucell envoica messager ; 

' The character of William the Conqueror as depicted in this 
imaginary record is well borne out by history. A Saxon scribe 
of the eleventh century is quoted by Donald G. Mitchell in 
his English Lands, Letters, and Kings, as writing : " King William 
was a very wise man, and very rich, more worshipful and strong 
than any of his foregangers. He was mild to good men who 
loved God, and stark beyond all bounds to those who withsaid his 
will. Bishops he set off their bishoprics, abbots off their abbotrics, and 
Shanes in prison. By his cunning he was so thoroughly acquainted 



A Fool's Errands 207 

Par sa amour a lui procurer; mais Brihtric 
Maude refusa." 

As I finished reading the MS. a letter flut- 
tered from the last pages. It was addressed 
to me and had been sent in care of the nun. 
It read as follows : 

" Dear Friends : 

"You must come to Chateau La Joyeuse before you 
leave our part of France, for we need you so very much. 
Something so strange has happened. Something at once 
both sad and sweet in its consequences. Unspeakably 
sad it is for my dear father, but you can help him to bear 
it with your republican ideas of the slight worth of rank 
and all that he has been accustomed to hold of so much 
importance. He does not know how far France has 
drifted from these ideas. Come and talk with him for 
he talks with no one. 

' // ne voit ni laics ni pretres, 
Ni gentils hoimneSy ni bourgeois 
Mais les portraits de ces ancetres 
Causent avec lui quelquefois. ' 

with England, that there is not a horde of land of which he did not 
know, both who had it and what was its worth. He planted a great 
preserve for deer, and he laid down laws therewith, that whoever 
should slay hart or hind should be blinded. He forbade the harts 
and also the boars to be killed. As greatly did he love the tall deer 
as if he were their father. Brytland [Wales] was in his power, and he 
therein wrought castles and completely ruled over that race of men, — 
it was need that they should follow the King's will, if they wished to 
live, or to have lands or goods. Alas, that any man should be so 
moody, and should so puff up himself, and think himself above all 
other men ! " 



2o8 Feudal Chateaux 

"What have I said ? His ancestors are the last persons 
whom he would talk with — but I cannot explain by letter. 
Come, and come at once, to your very sad and yet your 
most blissful 

" YSEULT." 




CHAPTER V 

HAREBELLS AND BROOM 

A GROUP OF PLANTAGENET LEGENDS 

Old slopes of pasture ground 
Old fosse, and moat and mound 

Where the mailed warrior and crusader came, 
Old walls of crumbling stone. 
Where trails the snapdragon, 

Rise at the speaking of the harebell's name. 

Mary Howitt. 



YSEULT'S call was irresistible. We had 
planned to go from Normandy straight to 
Touraine, but we could not pass through 
Brittany without stopping for a night at Cha- 
teau La Joyeuse. 

Gamin and Farceur were at the station and 
took us swiftly across the forest and up the 
hillside to the dear fortalice. 

209 



2IO Feudal Chateaux 

Yseult met us at the door. " Thank you so 
much for coming," she said ; " my father thanks 
you too. You will find him sadly changed." 

She led us to the sunny drawing-room, 
where the Vicomte sat in a wheeled chair 
wrapped in shawls and wearing a gown faced 
with fur though the day was warm. He 
extended a trembling hand, and while his 
face was lighted with momentary pleasure it 
showed the traces of great physical and mental 
suffering. 

" Sit down," he said, waving his hand to a 
/ajcteuil ysfhAch Finette pushed forward; "the 
Vicomtesse will be in immediately. It is good 
to see you here again. I have been very ill 
since I saw you last. It is like a horrible 
dream. Tell me of your wanderings. Did 
you find much to interest you after we parted 
at Angers ? " 

I outlined the trip and found him most 
interested in Mont St. Michel, and the cere- 
monial of the disgrace of Oliver de Bellesmes. 
His thin hand clenched on his chair and he 
lifted his head more proudly as I went on, 
until at the end he drew a long sigh and it fell 
forward as though oppressed by thought. 

" And yet," he said after a pause, " in spite 
of that ceremony of degradation, I am prouder 



Harebells and Broom 211 

of Oliver Talvas de Bellesmes than of any 
other ancestor of my house." 

" Was he your ancestor ? " I cried, chagrined 
that I had probed an old wound. " Forgive 
me ; I would not have told you all this if I had 
known." 

" I am glad that you have refreshed my 
memory ; his example will strengthen me for an 
act of renunciation. His wife died before his 
disgrace and he left his infant son in the charge 
of her relatives, refusing his sister's offer to 
bring him up. I believed until recently that I 
was descended from him through my great- 
grandmother, but I shall be more worthy of 
him if I disclaim the honour I have prized 
so long. After his disgrace he wandered to 
the Holy Land as a pilgrim on foot, with a 
halter around his neck. He never came back, 
nor could his son find trace of him. It was 
that son whose portrait Yseult showed you. 
He followed Godfrey de Bouillon on the First 
Crusade and when he was made a knight 
asked to be allowed to carry his father's buried 
shield, that he might redeem it and restore 
a new blazon to the family escutcheon. Did 
you not notice on our shield the white lion 
rampant, which indicates the Crusader, with the 
red bars across the field ? He won that device 



212 Feudal Chateaux 

at the battle of Ascalon, when he was desper- 
ately wounded in defence of Godfrey. The 
chief thought him dying, and he drew his 
fingers, stained in the attempt to stanch his 
friend's wound, across his well dented shield, 
leaving it ' barry of gules' " 

I remembered shamefacedly how in the 
early days of our acquaintance I had privately 
made sport of the La Joyeuse coat of arms, 
designating it flippantly as a circus poodle in 
boxing attitude behind a red gridiron, and I 
listened repentantly as the Vicomte continued. 

" I have been foolishly proud of that blazon, 
but it is mine no longer." 

" What do you mean ? " I asked ; " I do not 
understand." 

" You will understand when you have read 
this paper, which was handed me at Angers," 
the Vicomte replied. " Get it, Yseult ; we will 
take our friends into our confidence. It will 
be only a little while before the whole world 
will know." 

Yseult took the document from a cabinet. 
It was dated August 23, 1793, and read as fol- 
lows : 

" I, Thibault Le Brun testify that having been placed 
on guard at the burning of Chateau La Joyeuse at the 
north side of the castle, saw a woman of the village dash 



Harebells and Broom 213 

up the burning turret staircase and endeavour to force 
an entrance into the chateau. Not being able to open 
the door she stood there beating upon it and shrieking 
most piteously until her dress caught fire. Then, not 
willing to see her perish, I ran up, brought her down, and 
extinguished the flames which had fastened upon her, but 
not before she was badly burned. Even then she 
struggled in my arms striving to run again into the fire, 
and crying that her son was in the tower above and 
would perish in the flames. With that I recognised her 
as Marie Courtois, who had been nurse to the Vicomte's 
son, but I told her that she was losing her senses, since 
her child was safe at home. ' Nay,' she cried, ' God have 
pity on me ! — I changed the babes in their cradle. It is 
the young Vicomte I have at home, and my own son that is 
burning up there. Save him, save him, for the sake of 
the Madonna ! He is not an aristocrat.' 

" As she spoke, the staircase fell away a mass of embers, 
and I ran to my captain and reported what the woman 
had said, which I now set my name to as the truth." 

The old part of the castle had resisted the 
flames, but the marauders forced another door 
and sacked It of all objects which had not been 
hidden by the faithful servant. It was dis- 
covered that the family had escaped, but the 
captain left the statement of Thibault Le 
Brun to be given the Vicomte on his return, 
with this further endorsement : 

" Let him know that the child he cherishes 
as his own is a base-born peasant, and that ere 



214 Feudal Chateaux 

he reads this paper his own child will have 
been drowned in the Loire." 

This terrible revelation had been left nailed 
to the door of the chateau, but the same faith- 
ful servant who had hidden the valuables had 
taken it down, and knowing the grief which it 
would cause, yet not quite daring to destroy it, 
had hidden it under the roof of the turret 
where Louis Rondel had found it. 

" I am the descendant of that changeling," 
the Vicomte explained, "for there were no 
other children. Strange to say, the captain 
who wrote this paper and the guard whose 
deposition he took never returned and were 
never heard from ; nor did Marie Courtois ever 
come back to the village, or the servant who 
writes on the envelope that he hid the paper 
confide the fact to anyone, and the secret has 
remained undiscovered until now." 

" And now," I said, " that nobility has been 
abolished in France, what does it matter ? " 

The Vicomte made the sign of the cross as 
though exorcising a demon. "That is what I 
told myself for a time," he said. " I have been 
out of my mind — possessed of a devil — since 
this knowledge came upon me. It seemed to me 
monstrous, impossible, and I hid it in my 
heart, thinking that I would carry it to my 



Harebells and Broom 215 

grave and never tell. But I could not be so 
base. Though I am not really noble, I have 
been reared in the old traditions that noblesse 
oblige. Such a secret as that eats like a coal of 
fire and cannot be hidden. Since I am not a 
La Joyeuse, I shall put this revelation in the 
hands of the lawyers of the La Joyeuse family. 
Unless this is disproved I shall renounce every- 
thing." 

" Is this the feeling of the Vicomtesse ? 
Does Yseult consent ? " 

"There is no Vicomtesse La Joyeuse. 
This is hard for my wife, for she thought the 
more of the title because there was none with 
her own broad estates ; but Yseult approves." 

A glance at Yseult's sweetly radiant face 
told me why. 

" Father, our friends have guessed my 
secret," she said ; " they know that I cannot 
grieve for the loss of the old blazon, since its 
red bars kept me from Louis." 

The Vicomte — I cannot even now designate 
him to myself by any other term — winced. 
" Yes," he admitted, " there is no difference 
now in your rank. I have written him a full 
apology for the attitude I took at Angers, 
and I have asked to be put in communication 
with his parents. Yseult will receive a fat 



2i6 Feudal Chateaux 

little dot from her mother, — she is still a desir- 
able parti." 

Yseult made a little motie behind her 
father's back, for well she knew that neither 
dowry nor title formed any part of her attract- 
iveness to Louis Rondel. 

" And now," continued her father, " I have 
some other papers which I have laid aside for 
your inspection,— the journal and various letters 
of our American ancestor. The letters are in 
EngHsh, which I do not read. The journal, 
which is an account of the campaign in which 
he took part with Count Rochambeau, I have 
always intended to look over, but since this 
trouble has come upon me I do not find myself 
possessing either the strength or the inclin- 
ation for the task. You may find in these 
papers something of historical interest to 
Americans. Read them at your leisure, and 
return them to the new representative of the 
house." 

Thanking the Vicomte for this privilege 
we expressed the hope that an arrange- 
ment might be made whereby he could 
stiir remain at Chateau La Joyeuse. 

The Vicomte covered his face with his hands, 
and shook his head. 

" The grief of leaving Chateau La Joyeuse 



Harebells and Broom 217 

is very great," said Yseult, " but it would be 
harder to remain under the changed conditions, 
my father could never adapt himself to them. 
We must go far away." 

" Yes, far, far away," he cried passionately, 
while his frame shook with sobs. " Wheel 
me to my room, Finette. I am making — a 
spectacle of myself. I thought I was stronger." 

Neither the Vicomte nor the Vicomtesse 
appeared at dinner. It was a forlorn meal, 
though Yseult did its honours bravely. We 
had failed in bringing any consolation to 
the smitten man. It seemed to us that he 
could not survive the final leave-taking of all 
the old associations, and though Yseult did 
not realise this, yet her voice broke as she 
bade us farewell and urged us to carry out the 
original plan of returning to Chateau La Joy- 
euse to read the legends, — " before we bid good- 
bye to our dear old home." 

She filled our hands with harebells from the 
ruined part of the chateau, and with broom 
from the neighbouring moors. 

The Plant e-a-genet, or yellow broom, gave its 
name to the Plantagenet family ; but at Chinon, 
the old castle which was the cradle of their 
race, and the next shrine of our pilgrimage, we 
found no broom, but only delicate harebells 



2i8 Feudal Chateaux 

ringing their inaudible chimes from rocky 
campaniles. 

" It is a good omen," I persisted ; " they are 
ringing for Yseult's wedding ; but oh ! I wish 
her joy might have been purchased at a lesser 
price." 

THE SPECTRES OF CHINON 

" Farceur ! " 

" Not the least in the world. I tell you, 
totU sdrieusement, I saw it with these eyes." 

'"'' Menteur, alorsT 

" Tu ose le dire f " 

"If I dare?" 

** I would strike you." 

" Me, a woman ? " 

" Ah ! there is the embarrassment. Thou 
art indeed a woman, and, what is more unfort- 
unate, my mother, and, that which renders 
thee more presuming, thou art old ; but thou 
hast called me a liar, thou hast insulted me. 
Qiwi /aire ? Ah ! most fortunately thou art 
an imbecile — one forgives all to idiots." 

" Gaston," said I, " stop reviling your mother 
instantly, and tell me what this is all about." 

" He amuses himself by fabricating roman- 
ces." This from Mere Fran^oise. 

" She is a vrai tHe de choitx (cabbage-head). 



Harebells and Broom 219 

She knows nothing." This from the filial 
Gaston. " Figure of a pig, but it is unbear- 
able ! When everyone knows that the old 
castle is haunted ! I have myself seen the 
spectre. Jean le Roux has seen it, and so has 
old Michel." 

" Liars all," broke in the old woman. " Jean 
le Roux is a drunkard, who sees serpents in 
his path each night; Michel is out of his 
mind, and my son — " he lifted his arm as 
though to strike her — "is, as you see, a 
sacreligious one, a parricide, and (climax of 
infamy !) a hanger-on of artists and other idle 
people." 

" Since you have reached this depth of de- 
gradation, Gaston, pick up the sketching kit 
and tramp for the chateau ; and as we go tell 
us what you and your honourable colleagues 
have seen. What was the spectre like ? " 

"So please you, Monsieur, it was the Pu- 
celle." 

"What! Joan of Arc?" 

" Herself." 

" That was very appropriate — but I suppose 
you, who have been brought up at Chinon, 
have possibly heard that Jean d'Arc was first 
introduced to King Charles VH. in the great 
hall of Chinon." 



2 20 Feudal Chateaux 

" Oh, yes, Monsieur, I have heard that 
story, and how they tried to fool her by telling 
her that someone else was the King ; but she 
stuck out her tongue at the false jokers, in the 
same way that my mother did at me when I 
told her the sacred truth this morning, and 
she struck the true King on the shoulder, say- 
ing, ' You 're it,' as the children do when they 
play tag." 

" Since you have the facts of history down 
to so fine a point as that, is it not just pos- 
sible that you may have had the lady who 
saved France so completely in your mind that 
you imagined that you saw her ? " 

" Ah, no, Monsieur, for we all saw her at 
the same time, and if Michel is half crazy, and 
Le Roux had unquestionably had a few drops, 
still we could not all have imagined the same 
thing, could we ? " 

" What was she doing ? — playing tag around 
the castle, with the King chasing after her ? " 

"Ah ! Monsieur is incredulous ; I will say no 
more." 

"But, Gaston," I pleaded, "/believe you 
perfectly, and I am very much interested ; 
don't mind Monsieur, but tell me." 

"Ah, thanks, Madame," and the boy's face 
lighted with a sunny smile. " It is good to be 



Harebells and Broom 221 

believed, and you shall know all. It was at 
the hour of sunset yesterday ; the castle 
was stretched out along the hill as you see 
it ; I had gone to the little knoll to gather 
up Monsieur's implements de travail ; Michel 
and Le Roux joined me, and asked to see 
the picture which Monsieur had been paint- 
ing. I placed the easel in the road and we 
looked at it together. Le Roux is a great 
admirer of the fine arts, and can talk beauti- 
fully about them, when he is not too drunk, 
and Michel was himself an artist when he was 
young." 

" That was before he became insane ? " 
** Pardon, Madame, that was at the worst of 
it; he is quite harmless now. He essayed to 
make his living by decorating wedding-cakes 
with Cupids modelled in sugar and coloured 
to the life, ravishing creations, I am told ; but 
what would you ? The stupid bourgeoisies 
have no eye for art, fine sugar is expensive, 
young people did not marry fast enough, and 
he was forced to degrade his inspirations by 
executing them in gingerbread for fairs. The 
medium is ungrateful ; the torture of seeing 
his finest conceptions distorted in the baking 
drove him insane. He no longer strives 
aofainst fate to realise his ideals." 



2 22 Feudal Chateaux 

" Poor brother artist ! I would like to have 
heard your friends criticise my picture." 

" Pardon, Monsieur, you would not. They 
did not find it good. But that is inessential. 
As we were all talking- about it and comparing 
it with the castle, striving in vain to find any 
resemblance, we suddenly saw crossing the 
bridge the figure of the Pucelle. She was in 
complete armour, and she was mounted on a 
horse that was in armour too. He had a 
mask of steel on his face from which projected 
a long, sharp spike, and there were scales of 
steel along the back of his neck, and the Maid 
held a long spear in her hand, with a little 
three-cornered flag on the end. She did not 
ride very well and the horse did not like his 
armour, for he shook his head and it rattled, 
clap, clap, clap, and we all heard it." 

We had reached the point of vantage from 
which my husband was making his sketch. 
The ruins of the grand old castle loomed up 
very nobly. Three chateaux. Saint George, 
Coudray, and the Chateau du Milieu, with 
their connecting walls, made up the fortress. 
They silhouette in a straggling but picturesque 
sky-line, which the ruined towers dominate at 
just the right salient points, and convey in the 
first view the impression of gloom which the 



Harebells and Broom 223 

imagination, stimulated by a study of their 
tragical history, demands of them. For Chinon 
is a place sinister from its very founding in the 
obscurity of the dark ages by the Foulques of 
Anjou, and it held its own as pre-eminent in 
horror above all the other feudal fortresses of 
Touraine with the exception of Louis XL's 
terrible dungeons at Loches. That ogre in 
human shape, Foulque Rechin (the Brawler), 
here shut up his brother in miserable imprison- 
ment for thirty years, until Pope Urban, who 
was holding a council at Tours, demanded his 
release. Its history as the ancestral home of 
the Plantao-enets was still one of strife and evil 
doom, and later the Inquisition had a court 
and torture chamber here. 

The brightest gleam that ever touched it was 
the evanescent one which flashed from the 
armour of Joan of Arc, as she rode beneath 
its portcullis, bringing to Charles VII. her 
mission of deliverance to France. It was 
therefore rather pleasant to know that if the 
castle was haunted (as it seemed perfectly be- 
fitting and natural it should be), it was by so 
gentle a ghost. She fitted charmingly into the 
mental picture, and would have given just the 
touch of human interest to key up my hus- 
band's sketch. " I wish she would appear 



224 Feudal Chateaux 

now," he said ; " a mounted figure would come 
in very well on that bridge." 

" It was at the cheerful hour of sunset that 
Gaston saw the appearance yesterday," I sug- 
gested. " You have only to paint a little later 
than usual and she may favour us." 

"The castle is eood enoug^h for me without 
her," the artist mumbled, with his mouth full 
of brushes. " I have n't seen anything in all 
Touraine that comes up so absolutely to one's 
requirements. All of the white pleasure-cha- 
teaux, reflected so bewitchingly in the smiling 
Loire, were theatrical and modern. They 
posed self-consciously, like pretty women quite 
confident of our admiration ; but Chinon is 
an aged queen who commands admiration 
thoueh she has outo^rown the love of it." 

That day, while the artist painted, I read 
aloud from Ozanzeaux' Chronique of the mis- 
sion of Joan of Arc. I had reached his descrip- 
tion of her entree into Chinon : 



"The courts, the staircases, the vast corridors were 
lined with valets, with pages, and halberdiers. At last 
the door of the throne-room opened, and the pucelle dis- 
covered a vast assembly, who poured upon her a deluge 
of curious glances. Instantly she recognized the King, 
and approaching him said with resolute voice, — ' Charles, 
gentle Dauphin, Jeanne d'Arc salutes thee.' " 



Harebells and Broom 225 

" That would make a magnificent picture, if 
one were strong enough to paint it," said my 
husband. 

• In doubt whether he referred to the passage 
I had just read or to the scene before him, I 
looked up, and saw that I had read on until 
now all the sky was aflame with a magnificent 
sunset. My gaze fell from the glowing clouds 
to the dark hollow of the arched doorway, 
when suddenly it was filled by the figure of a 
mounted knight. No, it was not a knight, but 
Joan of Arc herself, as Gaston had described 
her, with the reflected light glinting from her 
armour with such splendour that she seemed a 
radiant vision. 

Something in my look must have startled 
Gaston, as he lay on his back in the grass, for 
he leaped to his feet and cried : 

" Eh Men / You have seen her too. Did I 
tell the truth or not ? " 

"Seen what, the spectre?" asked my hus- 
band. But he had looked up too late — the great 
portal had swallowed the resplendent figure. 
Though still incredulous he could not regard 
my " hallucination," as he was pleased to call 
it, in quite the same light as the fabrications 
of a boy whose own mother could not give 



2 26 Feudal Chateaux 

him a good reputation for truth, or as quite 
on a par with the visions of a madman and a 
drunkard. 

" Your mind was full of the story," he said, 
" and your eyes were dazzled by the setting 
sun ; you simply thought you saw the figure. 
We will go up to the castle to-morrow morning, 
and we will find that doorway barred across with 
cobwebs, and the bridge thick with untracked 
dust. Then I trust you will be convinced." 

Gaston shook his head and gave me a look 
of sympathy, we were comrades now, under 
the same persecution. " Ghosts do not leave 
footprints, and they pass straight through 
barred doors," he said, confidentially. The 
artist might prove that we were wrong, but we 
would not be convinced — we had seen the 
spectre. 

The next morning, as we climbed the hill, 
my husband in his eagerness outdistanced me, 
and when I overtook him on the bridge he was 
looking at the ground in a puzzled and crest- 
fallen manner. 

" There is something very peculiar here," he 
said ; "the ground is all trampled and trodden. 
A horse has passed both in and out several 
times, — you can tell that by the different direc- 
tions in which the hoof-marks point. It is 



Harebells and Broom 227 

always the same horse too, for they are ex- 
actly of the same size. There is no mark of 
wheels." 

We made the circuit of the ruins, but saw no 
one. Richelieu, whose policy it was to destroy 
the chateaux-forts in order to weaken the nobles 
and strengthen the royal power, made no ex- 
ception of Chinon, though it belonged to him. 
He pulled down even the great hall in which 
Charles VH. received Joan of Arc, and the 
only relic of that meeting is the hooded fire- 
place against which the King leaned. This 
now hangs forlornly on the portion of the wall 
left standing. The Tower of Coudray, where 
Joan was entertained during her visit at Chi- 
non by the lieutenant of the castle, Guillaume 
Bellier, is at the extreme end of the fortress. 
In its court she was taught the exercise of arms 
by the Duke d'Alengon, who presented her 
with a horse. As I was a little wearied by 
my climb I sat down opposite this tower, while 
my husband completed his inspection of the 
ruins. 

" Did you see no one ? " I asked as he 
returned from his rounds. " It seemed to me 
that I saw a face appear at that window in the 
Tower of Coudray, but it vanished so quickly 
that I am not at all positive." 



228 Feudal Chateaux 

" It may be," my husband repHed ; " for when 
I had almost reached the tower I distinctly 
heard someone singing. I stood still and list- 
ened. The voice was pure and liquid, the words 
that pretty Ricit de Jeanne d' Arc of Mermet's : 

' Un jour d'ete sous I'ombre de I'eglise 
Dans le jardin seule j'etais assise 
Quand I'Archange Michel una epee a la main, 
M'apparait, suivis d'un cortege sans fin.' 

The last line was repeated more softly. As 
soon as the cadence had died away I hurried 
forward and explored the tower. It was vacant 
and there was not a human being in sight. The 
whole thing is becoming most mysterious." 

As he spoke we again heard singing. This 
time it was not a girl's voice, but the manly 
ring of a chant de guerre, reverberating as in 
some vaulted hall : 

" Oui, tous pour la France, 
Nous combattrons a tes cotes ! 
Dieu le veut ! Tu rends I'esperance 
A ces coeurs qu'elle avait quittes ! " 

It was just such a battle-hymn as might have 
been caught up by the great assemblage of 
knights when Joan entered the castle. 

A soprano voice now caught up the refrain, 
and thrilled — 



Harebells and Broom 229 

" Nous deliverons la pair ie ! 
Nous deliverons la patrie ! " 

while the base kept time as to the tramp of 
marching feet — 

" Dieu le vent, Dieu le veut, 
Dieu le veut." 

** It is her voice," my husband cried, running 
forward — " the voice I heard from the Tower 
of Coudray, — Joan of Arc's." 

I followed as quickly as I was able — and 
there on the spot where the great hall had 
been, near the old fireplace, we both saw, her. 

She was standing as motionless as a statue. 
Indeed, were it not that the light morning 
breeze fluttered her faded skirt of grey frieze, 
she miofht have been a statue. She wore a 
steel cuirass whose plated sleeves met the 
steel gauntlets, and her legs were encased in 
greaves and solarets. Her helmet was on the 
ground by her side, and her hair cut squarely 
just above her shoulders. She was looking 
upward with a rapt expression, and held to her 
breast a cross-hilted sword. 

I confess that for a moment I was positively 
stupefied. Here was no glamour of moonlight 
or possibility of deception, but there in the 
garish light of day stood the embodied Maid 



230 Feudal Chateaux 

of Orleans ! My brain swam ; were my senses 
leavlnof me ? 

It was only for an instant, for my husband 
was shaking hands with a gentleman in a worn 
velvet coat, who held a palette on his thumb, 
and had stepped forward from behind a sketch- 
ing easel. It was his friend, Leon Gautier, an 
historical painter, who had chosen to bring his 
wife, who sometimes served him as a model, 
to Chinon, and to paint his studies for his 
next Salon picture in these authentic surround- 
ings. He was laughing heartily, for my hus- 
band had explained how we had been intrigued. 
"We had no idea," he said, "that we were 
giving a cantata for your benefit. Yvonne has 
a fair voice, and we often try a duo to- 
gether." 

After this, and so long as we were all at Chi- 
non, we met frequently. Monsieur Gautier was 
something of an antiquary, and a great en- 
thusiast over everything connected with the 
Middle Ages. He had rented the little cha- 
teau at Blois which formerly belonged to the 
Due de Guise, and had filled it with a collec- 
tion of costumes and armour. 

He explained to us the difference in armour 
worn at various periods. The Norman hau- 
berk or shirt of chain mail in all its gradations 




NORMAN ARMOUR^LINKED MAIL" XIth CENTURY. 



Harebells and Broom 231 

was perfected during the Crusades from imita- 
tion of the Saracens' fine cloth of linked steeL 
He showed us how plate armour was intro- 
duced, first by shoulder-, elbow-, and knee- 
pieces, and lastly the transition in the four- 
teenth century to a complete panoply of plate. 
I was startled in looking at the suit worn by 
Madame Gautier to recognise in one of the 
shoulder-pieces a grotesque face with jewelled 
eyes exactly similar to the one I had seen at 
Chateau La Joyeuse. Monsieur Gautier told 
us that he had seen a very old portrait of Joan 
of Arc in which she wore such armour, and that 
this particular epaulure had been lent him by a. 
friend. I told him of its reappearance in the 
legends of Roland and Rollo, and later he re- 
lated another chapter in the history of the 
strange object. He showed us, too, a cham- 
fron or horse's helmet with neck-plates and 
housings, which transformed his sturdy sorrel 
horse Flavel (named for Coeur de Lion's 
charger) from a respectable modern hackney 
into Joan's gallant steed. He had thought at 
first of painting her in the tilt-yard of the 
castle by d'Alen^on, but gave this up in. 
favour of Chinon. 

He was a collector of legends as well as of 
bric-a-brac, and said that often in the folk-lore 



232 Feudal Chateaux 

of the people he had found inspiration for a 
picture. 

One day, as the artists painted in company, 
Gaston related some marvellous tale of a gob- 
lin dance which he had witnessed one evening 
in the ruins. Monsieur Gautier professed en- 
tire credence, and proceeded to draw him out : 
" These goblins, Gaston, how did they look?" 

" Veritable demons. Monsieur. Demons 
with black wings and claws, and with the heads 
of devils, but little, and all dancing in a circle. 
You may see them yourself above the clock- 
tower yonder any midsummer night." 

" Yes, I saw them last night. They were 
bats." 

" In the form of bats if you please, sir, but 
veritable demons, the descendants of Mabile, 
who inhabit that tower." 

*' Who do you pretend was their ances- 
tress ? " 

" I do not pretend, Monsieur ; it is all the 
pure truth." 

" Be careful, Gaston ; I will report you to 
Monsieur le Cure." 

" It was Monsieur le Cure who told me the 
story of the Lady Mabile, Monsieur, and that 
these bats are her progeny. He said it was 
as true as the legends of the saints." 




PLATE ARMOUR— XVth CENTURY. 



Harebells and Broom 233 

*' Then I believe you. Tell us the legend." 
" Many hundred years ago, Monsieur, there 
was a lord of this castle named Foulques 
Rechin." 

" Exactly, that Is history ; go on." 
" He married a demon. He did not know 
at first that she was a true daughter of Satan, 
though she led him the devil of a life, and stirred 
up all manner of strife with his neighbours. 
At last he began to suspect her, for she would 
never go to mass, and he had her taken forci- 
bly to church by his men-at-arms, and held 
during the service. But at the elevation of 
the Host her finofers shot out g-reat claws, and 
she scratched her guards' faces so fiercely that 
they let go of her, and she spread out her 
black cloak, making two great wings, and flew 
away over their heads out of the church win- 
dow, and up over the castle. The Cure told 
it to the boys at school, to make them come to 
their first communion, for all bad boys he said 
were the children of Mabile, and would be 
changed at last into bats Instead of going to 
Heaven." 

" But the bats do no harm," I commented. 
" Pardon, Madame, but they are very evil 
birds. They are responsible for all the mis- 
fortunes which have come to all the inhabit- 



234 Feudal Chateaux 

ants of this castle. To this day no one of 
us, however hungry, will eat a bat. Would 
Madame eat one ? " 

" Hardly." 

"Ah ! that proves it, — and yet Madame had 
never heard this legend." 

" Your story is a good one," said Monsieur 
Gautier. " Do you know any others ? " 

" Only one other true one. Has Monsieur 
ever heard of the Lady Melusine ? " 

'* Melusine of the chateau of Lusio-nan ? 
Certainly. She was a fairy lady. John of 
Arras in 1387 wrote her story. _As the good 
Cure said, it is as true as the les^ends of the 
saints. But tell us the story as you know it 
here." 

" Melusine was a good fairy — not hateful 
like Mabile. '^\\^ wsj^ ' ineine tres gentil.^ She 
was a very pretty woman down to the waist, 
but the rest of her was a hideous water-snake. 
One day the knight Raymond de Lusignan, 
who was hunting, saw her bathing in a lake in 
the midst of the forest. He held in his horse 
and looked at her, but her slimy tail was 
under the water, and he saw only her lovely 
white human form. The moment she saw him 
she cowered down into the water very modestly, 
and her lovely hair spread out on its surface 



Harebells and Broom 235 

like the petals of a pond lily. But she did not 
sink quite out of sight, and she kept looking 
at him with her wonderful eyes, until he fell 
in love with her and begged her to come out 
of the water. She told him that was impos- 
sible, as it was not the fashion in those days 
for ladies to wear bathing-suits, and he seeing 
her so modest knew that she was a lady, and 
loved her all the more, and begged her to be 
his bride. Now it is possible for fairies of her 
kind, if they are loved by mortals, to become 
human beings for six days in the week, but one 
day they must retain their old form. So Mel- 
usine said, ' If you love me, come to-morrow 
to my castle, and we will talk of this matter ; 
and in the meantime throw me your ring.' 

" But Raymond could not wait until the mor- 
row, and as the place she had described was 
on his way to his own castle, he went back that 
way. But there was no castle there, for Mel- 
usine had not had time to erect one by her 
enchantments. So Raymond thought she was 
a deceiver, and did not go on the morrow to 
the tryst. 

"As he did not love her enough to believe in 
her, Melusine did not become a woman, and so 
could not go to him ; and things remained as 
they were until one day the knight thought of 



236 Feudal Chateaux 

his ring and regretted that he had so Hghtly 
parted with it. As it was of great value he de- 
termined to drag the pool for it. He took a 
net of fine meshes and went again into the 
forest, and having weighted it began to drag. 
He knew at once that he had found something 
heavy and when he pulled it to the surface 
there was Melusine, caught in the net. She 
closed her eyes and he thought that she had 
been drowned in the pool and it was only her 
dead body that he had found. So now his 
heart was filled with ruth, and he believed in 
her in spite of his former suspicions ; so as he 
lifted her in his arms her serpent shape changed 
beneath the water, and as he drew her out she 
was all a lovely woman. He covered her with 
his cloak, and bewailed her, and Melusine, 
knowing that she was at last truly beloved 
and wholly a woman, opened her eyes, and he 
brought her to the castle, which was now really 
there, and they were married and were very 
happy. But, as I have told you, this could 
only be six days in the week, so Melusine made 
him promise to let her pass Sundays alone in 
the forest. They had eight brave and beauti- 
ful human children and Melusine helped them 
by her fairy power, so that the boys performed 
wonderful exploits, and there were no maidens 



Harebells and Broom 237 

in all France so lovely as the girls ; and though 
Raymond gave his entire fortune to the eldest 
when she married, there was as much for all 
the others when their turns came. Now all 
would have been well but for the demon curi- 
osity ; for Raymond began to wonder what 
his wife did on Sundays, and at last he became 
jealous and followed her and learned the truth. 

" Though he would have taken her back with 
him even on these terms, he could not, for he 
had doubted her, and the spell was broken. 
She sank into the pool, and was never heard of 
more. He dragged it again with the net but 
he could never catch her, though at the first 
haul he found his ring glistening in its meshes." 

" You have told the legend of the Lusignan 
family very well," said Monsieur Gautier, "and 
it does not differ materially from the form in 
which it exists in literature. The castle is not 
far from Chinon, and the Lusignans and Plant- 
agenets are connected in their family history. 
Richard Coeur de Lion and Hugh de Lusignan 
you will remember were warm friends." 

** So were the ladies," Gaston interpolated. 

" What ladies ? " I asked. 

" Mesdames Mabile Plantagenet and Melu- 
sine Lusignan. It is a pity that Melusine could 
not have sweetened Mabile's temper, but a 



238 Feudal Chateaux 

demon she was, and a demon she will re- 
main." 

"Is there more of the legend?" Monsieur 
Gautier asked, somewhat surprised. 

^^ Mais certainement ; there is the part about 
the magic armour." 

" And what is that ? I have never heard 
It. 

" It was after the disappearance of both of 
the ladies, but long years ago, nevertheless, as 
I have heard, that the Saracens invaded France 
and fought a great battle not far from Chinon. 
It may not be true — it is the only part of the 
story that seems unlikely, and the King of 
France sent a knight with a hammer, who led 
the French forces and defeated them all." 

" Yes, I happen to have heard of that. It was 
the battle of Tours, gained by Charles Martel ; 
that is historical." 

" Then the rest of the story must be historical 
too. On the side of the Saracens there were 
some knights who wore magic armour, and 
they could not have been slain had not Melu_ 
sine and Mabile, who were both French at 
heart, used their enchantments to direct the 
arrows to the vulnerable parts. They each 
wanted this armour for their descendants. 
Melusine, because she knew a way to make it 



Harebells and Broom 239 

still more fortunate for the wearer, and Mabile, 
because she intended to poison it so that it 
would cause the death of him who wore it. 

So, as soon as the battle was over, Mabile flew 
to the field to strip the slain, but Melusine 
had been there before her, and had carried the 
armour to her pool. Now a bat cannot dive, 
so all Mabile could do was to fan the pool with 
her wings until she dried it up. But Melusine^ 
as she felt the water diminishing, dragged the 
armour deeper still into an underground cave 
where there was an undying spring, and here 
Mabile could not come. And there it exists, 
for all I know, to this day, with a blessing for 
the Lusignans and a curse for the Plantagenets. 
There is not a boy who knows that legend but 
has searched for that armour with a wand of 
witch-hazel but no one has found it." 

Monsieur Gautier, who had listened to the 
legend with growing excitement, now sprang 
from his camp-stool, and threw his cap into 
the air exclaiming, " At last I have found it ! " 

" Found what? the armour?" we asked in 
chorus. 

" No, the missing link in a story which has 
always bafBed me. Your legend, Gaston, ex- 
plains the contrary effects, for bane and 
blessing, which that ma^ic armour had on the 



240 Feudal Chateaux 

families of Plantagenet and Lusignan. It was 
found long since, and lost again, and the second 
time that it was lost it was far from Chinon." 

" Tell us the legend," we clamoured ; and 
Monsieur Gautier, thus besought, related the 
story of the treasure of Chalus, the lodestones 
of love, for which Richard lost his life and 
knew that it was not lost in vain. 




CHAPTER VI 

THE LODESTONES OF LOVE 

Ah ! dear Provence ! ah ! happy troubadour, 
And that sweet, mellow, antique song of thine! 

Richard Watson Gilder. 

" JiyiY legend," said Monsieur Gautier, "which 
^ » A I tracked all through Provence, and 
among the castled crags of the Limousin, find- 
ing it on the battlements of Carcassonne at 
Bordeaux, and under the ruins of Chains, has 
its roots at Chinon in a double sense. In the 
first place, because it was near Chinon that 
Charles Martel gained his great victory over 
the Moors, which resulted in bringing the 
precious lodestones to France, and secondly,, 
because it is the life story, and particularly 
the love story, of the noblest of the Planta- 
genets, Richard Coeur de Lion." 

i6 

241 



242 Feudal Chateaux 

Gaston looked up from the grass and com- 
mented approvingly : " But yes, but yes, he 
belonged to Chinon, and he is buried in our 
Abbey of Fontevraud. He was one of our 
French kines who owned Eneland." 

" Gaston is very nearly right," said Mon- 
sieur Gautier, " in his characterisation of Rich- 
ard as a French king. The time which he 
spent in England in his different flying visits 
would hardly have aggregated a year. He 
had more French blood than English in his 
veins, he was entirely French in feeling, and it 
is even doubtful whether he could speak 
English fluently, while he inherited a more 
important portion of France than the French 
king. The perpetual struggle between Eng- 
land and France was at this time a desperate 
one for the French nation. Richard's father, 
Henry H. of England, inherited from his 
father, Geoffrey Plantagenet, only the insignifi- 
cant domain of the Foulques, Anjou and 
Touraine ; but Geoffrey had married Maude, 
granddaughter of William the Conqueror, and 
she left Henry Normandy and Brittany, and 
finally secured for him the throne of England. 
Through marriage with Eleanor of Aquitaine 
Henry annexed Provence, ' securing his posi- 
tion in France as lord from sea to sea from the 



The Troubadour. 

From a design by Cesar Detti. 



The Lodestones of Love 243 

Norman coast to the Gulf of Lions.' He 
would have held what he had gained had he 
not been the father of a tribe of turbulent 
boys, strong, like their father, quarrelsome, and 
ambitious. Henry could meet and master 
exterior foes, but he could not keep his own 
family in subjection, and one of his sons 
said bitterly, ' The only way we can have 
peace and unity is to unite in fighting cur 
father.' 

" After the death of his two elder sons, the 
King's preference was plainly for his young- 
est, John, who received an English education, 
and was kept by his father near him in Eng- 
land ; while Queen Eleanor fostered Richard's 
right to the heirship, and brought him up in 
her own dominion of Aquitaine. 

" Chinon was the common meeting-ground of 
the family, the only spot that they could all 
look upon as home, and yet it was the pre- 
ferred residence of none of them. 

" It was the spot, however, where took place 
those angry encounters and agonised repent- 
ances and those terrible deaths which have 
made history ; and over there in their Abbey 
of Fontevraud sleep Henry and Eleanor, as 
though they had come from northern Eng- 
land and southern France to dwell together 



244 Feudal Chateaux 

in that common home, united at last in a long 
reconciliation, with all their passion, their jeal- 
ousy, their ambition, and hatred cooled by- 
death. 

" You will look in vain upon the map for the 
duchy of Aquitaine. It is the western portion 
of the old kingdom of Provence, the counties 
of Guienne and Gascony, which have been 
divided in modern times into eight others, 
comprising all that beautiful south-western 
portion of France, the valley of the Garonne, 
a little natural kingdom in itself, with the 
Pyrenees its bulwark on the south, and the 
long coast-line of the Bay of Biscay. Navarre, 
on the southern slope of the Pyrenees, was 
in the time of Eleanor a loving neighbour, gov- 
erned by Sancho the Wise, who had three 
children : Sancho the Strong, and two daugh- 
ters, Berengaria and Blanche. 

" Sancho the Strong had earned his appella- 
tion in a gallant exploit against the Moors, 
when he defeated the Miramolin and broke 
with his battle-axe the chains that guarded 
the camp of the infidel, which chains were 
afterward transferred to the armourial bear- 
ings of Navarre.^ An ardent friendship existed 
from boyhood between Richard and this young 

' Lives of the Queetis of England, Strickland. 



The Lodestones of Love 245 

Prince, for Sancho was not only athletic and 
chivalrous, but he shared Richard's taste and 
skill in Provengal poetry. 

" His sisters were noted for their mental as 
well as physical graces. Richard first met 
them at a tournament at Pamplona, where he 
and Sancho became fratrez jurati, or sworn 
brothers. 

" The following year a Court of Love, or con- 
test of troubadours, was to be held in ' gay 
Guienne,' and Richard courteously insisted on 
the attendance of his host's entire family, 
with special desire that Berengaria should be 
among the guests, for (as an old chronicler 
has quaintly stated) from the time that he 
first saw her in the tournament lists, ' Richard 
loved the eleg^ant grirl.' 

" Queen Eleanor had found in Sancho the 
Wise a faithful and powerful friend, and she 
gladly took this opportunity to foster a friend- 
ship between their children. Every effort was 
made, both by Richard and his mother, to 
make the approaching literary contest the 
most brilliant that had ever taken place in 
Provence. Besides being, by right of her rank, 
judge of all such contests, Eleanor was herself 
a poetess. Her cha7iso7is would have found a 
place in French literature but that they are 



246 Feudal Chateaux 

too erotic for even the lax French standard of 
literary morality. 

" To attract to the next festival the trouba- 
dours of all countries, Eleanor proclaimed that 
every comer should have hospitality and safe- 
guard, were he her most deadly foe. 

"'And look you, Richard,' said his mother, 
'that you eclipse every one of them.' 

" Every class of Provengal poetry was to be 
represented : epic romances, ballads, pastor- 
ales, chansons d' amours, tensons, and sirventes 
or satires ; and each class was to receive its 
prescribed reward, a flower, only in this in- 
stance the flower was of beaten gold cun- 
ningly designed by the goldsmith's art. The 
great prize of all was to be a golden wreath of 
laurel. 

" The day of the contest arrived. On the 
tournament o-round at a little distance from 
Bordeaux, by the side of the sparkling Garonne, 
had been spread the great pavilion of rose- 
coloured silk. The curtains were looped back 
at intervals to admit the breeze. Within, the 
tent was garlanded to the central pole with 
roses. The seats were arranored as in an 
amphitheatre, encircling the Queen's throne, 
above which a canopy of cloth of gold was 
held by halberds with silver heads. A rich 



The Lodestones of Love 247 

Oriental carpet covered the steps leading to the 
throne ; on each step were ranged two golden- 
haired pages, on whose tabords was em- 
broidered the coat of arms of Cupid, — a flaming 
heart with arrows and chains. Each page 
held on a silver salver one of the golden flowers 
which were to be given as prizes. A herald, 
gorgeously arrayed, announced each contest- 
ant as he arrived and made obeisance to 
the Queen, who motioned him to the seats pro- 
vided for the troubadours and their jongleurs, 
or musicians. 

" On the first day each troubadour was to be 
called upon in turn to sing or recite his poem, 
and to name the lady in whose honour it was 
written. On the second day matrimonial en- 
gagements were to be submitted to the Queen 
for her approval, and on the third the court 
proper was to be held, when questions of 
love and gallantry would be debated, and 
any who felt themselves aggrieved in matters 
of the heart were allowed to enter a protest 
before a jury of the noble ladies of Guienne. 

" The invitations to attend the Court of Love 
had been so widely scattered that contestants 
came from distant provinces of France and 
even from foreign countries. Richard was 
deeply disappointed on the arrival of the guests 



248 Feudal Chateaux 

from Navarre, to note that thouo-h her sister 
Blanche had accepted the invitation, and 
Sancho had brought a clumsy sonnet, Beren- 
garia was not in the train. 

" Queen Eleanor opened the literary tourney 
with an address full of grace and wit, and closed 
it by repeating a poem by a contemporaneous 
poetess, Barbe de Verrue, which was certainly 
most appropriate in its reference to her own 
youth of coquetry and the nobler character of 
her later years : 

* The gazing crowds proclaimed va^ fair 

Ere, autumn-touched, my green leaves fell : 
And now they smile and call \\\Q.good ; 
Perhaps I like that name as well. 

' On beauty bliss depends not ; then 

Why should I quarrel with old Time ? 
He marches on ; how vain his power 
With one whose heart is in its prime. 

' I joy too, here, (though those there be 

Who mock the sentimental tale,) 
To see how lays of truest love 

The listening circle round regale. 

' You fancy time for you stands still, 
And pity me my hairs of grey, 
And smile to hear how once your sires 
To me could kneeling homage pay, 

' And I, too, smile to gaze upon 

These butterflies in youth elate . 




IFFURE-TIME OF QUEEN ELEANOR. 



The Lodestones of Love 249 

So heedless sporting round the flame, — 
For love's the same whate'er the date.' 

" Eleanor's proclamation of amnesty and 
forgetfulness of old quarrels was accepted by 
more than one of her neighbours with whom 
she had embroiled herself, and her brow dark- 
ened as Thibault, Count of Champagne, and 
the youthful Raymond, son of her old enemy 
the Count of Toulouse, were announced. 
Thibault was accredited the most skilful 
amateur troubadour in France, and would 
doubtless win in whatever class he chose to 
enter. Her queenly word insured them both 
a courteous welcome, though she saw with 
displeasure that her daughter, the Princess 
Joan, was soon chatting with evident pleasure 
with the adventurous Raymond de Toulouse. 
She quickly summoned him to open the con- 
test, which he did by singing to his own 
accompaniment on the viol the short serena 
which has come down to our own day. The 
verses ended with the stanza : 

' Her charms are of the growth of Heaven, 
She decks the night with hues of day : 
Blest are the eyes to which 't is given 
On her to gaze his soul away.' 

" The eyes of the troubadour were fixed 
so ardently on the Princess Joan that none 



250 Feudal Chateaux 

doubted that she was the lady referred to, 
but Eleanor perversely omitted to ask Ray- 
mond in whose honour the poem was com- 
posed, and abruptly called upon Thibault for 
his lay, which was delivered in praise of 
Blanche of Navarre, sister of Berengaria. 

" Geoffroi Rudel, the friend of Geoffrey Plan- 
tagenet, next named the Countess of Tripoli 
(the fair Saracen whom he had never seen, and 
for whom he finally renounced home, religion, 
and even life) as the lady of his love, and 
sang a song which so touched the heart of the 
dusky Countess that she caused it to be tran- 
scribed in letters of gold and from his death to 
her own carried it in her bosom. 

"Arnaut Daniel and Gaucelm Faidit, two 
friends of Richard's, followed, Daniel giving 
them the romance of Sir Launcelot du Lac. 
Then came Bertran de Born with a ringing 
battle-hymn, in honour of no lady, but of the 
warlike race of the Plantagenets ; and Peire 
Vidal sang to Alazais, wife of the Viscount of 
Marseilles, and Tomiers of Tarascon to a fair 
one of Avignon. Time would fail us to give 
the names of the votaries of ' the Gay Science ' 
who graced the occasion. Richard and Blon- 
del replied to each other in the tenson which 
was afterwards so famous ; and, while awards 



The Lodestones of Love 251 

in special classes were won by others, it was 
evident from the burst of universal applause 
that popular vote decreed the golden laurels 
to Prince Richard. 

" A flush of gratified pride mounted to the 
Queen's brow, and she was about in mock 
modesty to ask for a vote rather than herself 
give the prize to her son, when the herald 
struck the heart-shaped shield suspended on a 
lance in front of the poets' rostrum, in token 
that a trouvere or prose story-teller from the 
East desired to exhibit his skill. The young 
man was announced as Berenger, C here he le 
monde, a wanderer. He was a slight youth 
robed in a scholar's gown, though he carried a 
pilgrim's wallet and staff, and wore the cockle- 
shell upon his cap. He made a low obeisance 
and related his story in the following words : 

" * Be it known to you, most noble lady, that 
there existed many centuries ago in the mount- 
ains of Persia a famous mine of carbuncles, 
gems somewhat resembling rubies, but larger 
and darker, so that whereas a ruby is of the 
joyous colour of wine when the sunlight plays 
lovingly through it, and it sparkles in the 
glass, a carbuncle has a gloomy and ominous 
resemblance to a drop of blood, dark and lus- 



252 Feudal Chateaux 

treless, save when the sun strikes it, when it 
glows as it were a coal of living fire. 

" ' The carbuncles in the mine of which I 
speak were always found imbedded by nature 
in iron ore, and besides being unusually large 
and of a heart shape, they had peculiar ma- 
gic qualities ; for it was soon discovered that 
those who carried them in their rough state, 
whether miners or merchants, were fortunate 
in love, so that the stones acquired a reputa- 
tion as love amulets. 

" * This property was lost when the gems 
were taken from their native bed and set in 
gold or silver ; therefore it became the custom 
of the Saracen artificers to mount them with a 
portion of their natural rough setting in iron 
rings or upon steel armour. Some of these 
wonderful carbuncles were brought to Toledo, 
which after Damascus was the most famous 
city in all the world for the manufacture of 
arms, 

" ' At first the carbuncles were in great de- 
mand. There was not a Moorish warrior 
of wealth who did not desire to have one of 
the " lodestones of love," as they were called, 
set upon some part of his armour, and al- 
ways with the same happy result. The lady 
of the knight so bejewelled, were she ever 



The Lodestones of Love 253 

so haughty and implacable, speedily became 
yielding ; were she cold and unloving, impas- 
sioned ; were she jealous and suspicious, then 
trustful ; if wronged, forgiving ; if false, then 
penitent ; were she far distant, she flew to 
him, and if there were obstacles in the way of 
their union they were all speedily and magic- 
ally removed. 

'"In spite of these desirable and ever effica- 
cious qualities these lodestones of love shortly 
lost their popularity, for it was observed, after 
some experiment, that only those who were 
true lovers could profit by their spell. When 
a lady had been false to her lover, and he 
wore one of these carbuncles, her passion for 
him indeed returned ; but she died within a 
night and a day after her forgiveness. If the 
knight wandered from his allegiance, he might 
do so with impunity so long as he wore not 
the fateful gems, but if he repented his fickle- 
ness and sought their aid to make peace with 
his true love, they were immediately reconciled, 
— and his death as infallibly followed. 

" ' It will be easily understood that such incon- 
venient conditions could not be popular with 
the followers of Islam, to whom their prophet 
allowed a multiplicity of loves. The rule of 
a single love was too tyrannical for them ; 



2 54 Feudal Chateaux 

the lodestones of love were soon a drug in 
the market, and the merchants ceased to 
import them, or the miners to search for them, 
and an earthquake taking place in that 
country, the mine was filled and all traces of 
it were lost. 

" ' In the reign of Abd-ur-Rahman, however, 
ideas of chivalry, doubtless gained from the 
observation of the manner of life of the French 
knights, sprang up among the noblest of the 
Mohammedan youth of Spain. The Sultan's 
bodyguard was composed of the horsemen 
of Irak, the very flower of soldanrie. Fifty 
young princes of this body bound themselves 
by a vow to be true to one love only, and 
gave order to the armourers of Toledo that 
their harness should be studded with the 
magfic carbuncles. There was gfreat trouble 
in filling the order, for the gems had by this 
time become somewhat scarce, but the knights 
were wealthy, and requisition being made 
publicly throughout Spain, every carbuncle 
in the kingdom was brought to Toledo, and 
the full complement was at length furnished. 
Never had been seen more beautiful armour ; — 
for besides having- their tunics of chain mail 
ornamented with baldrics, set with the car- 
buncles, extending from shoulder to thigh and 



The Lodestones of Love 255 

supporting the scimitar, the same gems orna- 
mented their carcanets (or collars) and glowed 
along the helmet, from which depended the 
coif of steel links that defended the throat. 
Besides the decorations afforded by the jewels, 
the hilts and scabbards of their scimitars were 
encrusted with other precious stones, the 
blades were damascened with mottoes from 
the Koran in gold and silver, and the device 
of each knight was emblazoned in the same 
manner upon his shield. 

" ' These knights were among the bravest as 
well as the handsomest and noblest of their 
people, and were the crest of that tidal wave 
which swept all before it and reached its high- 
water mark before the city of Tours, when 
the God of battles rebuked them through our 
valiant Charles Martel, saying : " Thus far 
shalt thou come and no farther, and here shall 
thy proud waves be stayed." On that great 
day of battle there were slain the Sultan Abd- 
ur-Rahman and the greater part of his army, 
— and of the fifty knights of Irak not one re- 
turned to Spain. 

" * There is a tradition that, as they carried on 
their campaign through our smiling countries, 
the beautiful maids of Navarre and still more 
lovely ladies of Provence seduced many a 



256 Feudal Chateaux 

knight of the lodestone from his allegiance ; 
but when such was the case he had the magic 
pieces of armour replaced by others of a plainer 
but less dangerous sort. On the eve of the 
battle of Tours the Moorish commander noted 
the altered appearance of this elite corps and 
bade them adorn themselves on the morrow 
In their most gorgeous panoply. Perhaps 
they had come to be sceptical and disbelieved 
in the spell, or perchance some of them on 
the eve of battle, in the presence of near death, 
repented their wanderings ; at all events the 
knights went into the charge with the car- 
buncles reddening their armour like splashes of 
blood. And the spell wrought even at that 
distance, for by the fountains of Cordova the 
ladies of these knights felt such pricking of 
heart that they mounted on swift palfreys, and 
journeying night and day, reached the field 
two days after the battle. And there among 
the dead they found their mortally wounded 
lords, whose souls could not leave their agon- 
ised bodies until they had received the forgive- 
ness of their beloved.' 

"The young trouvere ceased his recital, and 
Queen Eleanor was about to speak when 
Richard rose and bowing gracefully, said : 

** ' By your leave, dear mother and Queen of 



The Lodestones of Love 257 

this gracious court, I pray the boon to ask 
this sweet youth what became of the fifty suits 
of jewelled armour.' 

'''They were never heard of more,' replied 
the trouvere. ' It is supposed that the Moor- 
ish ladies carried them back to Spain, but 
they were never seen thereafter in any joust 
or battle.' 

" ' And thou, my lady mother, who hast fol- 
lowed a Crusade to the Holy Land, and hast 
met many of the Saracen princes at Antioch 
and Jerusalem, hast thou marked a coat of 
mail thus bedizened ? ' 

" 'Jewelled mail and weapons have I seen in 
great profusion,' Queen Eleanor replied. 'It 
was reported that the armour of Sultan Nou- 
reddin blazed with diamonds. Now that I 
mind me, there was a young Emir named 
Saladin who affected only red stones. They 
may have been carbuncles.' 

"'Then,' said Richard, 'I swear that I will 
go a Crusader, not so much to deliver Jerusa- 
lem, as to seek out this Saladin and recover 
from him his enchanted armour.' 

" The Queen turned pale. ' Make not, my 
son, such a rash and silly promise,' she said 
sternly. ' The cross of the Crusader cannot 
be assumed for so trivial a purpose, and it 



258 Feudal Chateaux 

would ill betide thee to meet Saladin, for he Is 
a conqueror in war as in love, and there can 
be none of the lodestones of love among his 
jewels, or he would long since have died as a 
penalty of his infidelity. 

" ' But we interrupt the proceedings of this 
court by our vain discussion. This youth hath 
so eclipsed the other singers, both in the inge- 
nuity of his tale and in the art of its delivery, 
that I here confer upon him the golden laurels 
and crown him king of this contest.' 

" Berenger was pushed forward reluctantly. 
* Most noble Queen,' he said, stammering and 
blushing, ' I pray your indulgence, but I can 
in nowise accept the meed you are pleased to 
grant to my poor efforts, both in respect to 
their lack of merit as regards those of these 
other noble gentlemen, and especially the ten- 
son of your princely son.' 

"'There can be but one judge of merit 
here,' Eleanor replied, somewhat piqued. 
' Dost thou, presumptuous youth, dare to 
usurp that office or question my authority?' 

" ' Nay, royal lady, but there is another rea- 
son — this prize is granted to the troubadour 
Berenger.' 

" ' And art thou not he ? ' 

" ' Nay ; pardon me, — I am she, Berengaria, 



The Lodestones of Love 259 

who has assumed this disguise and entered 
this contest out of wantonness of play, which 
I cannot carry so far as to accept this unmer- 
ited reward ' ; and hfting her boy's cap, a shower 
of golden hair fell to the waist of the sportive 
maid. 

" The Queen strove to speak, but an uproar 
of laughter drowned her voice. When the 
merriment had subsided Richard again strode 
forward, and begged grace for the culprit. 

" ' She shall be absolved,' said the Queen 
graciously, ' from the disrespect shown this 
august court by the deception which she has 
practised upon it in her frolicsome prank ; and 
inasmuch as thy tenson, my Richard, is marred 
by the cankerworm of jealousy and unfaith, and 
the romancSro of Berengaria breathes the true 
spirit of the chivalry of love, we decree to thee 
and to Blondel these silver roses gnawed by 
emerald worms, but to Berengaria the perfect 
golden laurels, — and proclaim her, until the 
next sitting of our court, the Queen of all 
Troubadours.' 

" Richard led forward the Lady Berengaria, 
and both received their prizes amidst the ap- 
plause of the court. 

"That evening, a glorious moonlit one, the 
troubadours practised their serenades and bar- 



26o Feudal Chateaux 

caroles ; and many a lover touched the lute 
beneath his lady's window, or sang his boat- 
song to the dip of the oars, as he rowed her 
in his light bark upon the Garonne. The 
night was given to wooing, and hearts and 
pledges were exchanged in ardent practice of 
the principles which had been enunciated dur- 
ing the day ; for the next ceremony of the 
festival, which would take place on the mor- 
row, would be the public announcement of 
betrothals, for which the approval of Queen 
Eleanor was besought. This was not a mere 
empty form, for, as Suzeraine Lady of Aqui- 
taine, she had the right to forbid any alliances 
between families owing her fealty. 

" Among the couples who were made happy 
on the next day by an exchange of plighted 
troth were Richard's friend and companion in 
arms, Hugh de Lusignan, Count of Marche, 
and Isabelle, the young daughter of the Count 
of Angouleme, who held as her dowry the 
province of Angoumois. These two provinces, 
Angoumois and Marche, divided Eleanor's pos- 
sessions of Poitou and Aquitaine ; and as the 
Plantagenet provinces of Anjou and Touraine 
were bordered by Poitou on the south, and 
were themselves extended by Brittany and 
Normandy, Angoumois and Marche were the 



The Lodestones of Love 261 

only possible gap in all that western sweep of 
the possessions of the King and Queen of 
England in France. They were therefore 
strategic points, and Eleanor recognised the 
importance of winning Lusignan's fealty from 
the King of France, and securing his allegiance 
to England. She accordingly encouraged the 
friendship which had sprung up between Hugh 
and Richard, and gave her most loving accord 
to the desired betrothal. According to the 
custom of the day the bride-elect was given 
into the guardianship of the family of her be- 
trothed, and left her father and mother to 
reside at the castle of Lusignan. 

" Eleanor was less pleased with the alliance 
which was next proposed, but as neither of the 
young people owed any fealty to Aquitaine, 
the Queen of the Court of Love graciously 
accorded her benison on the suit of young 
Thibault of Champagne, who besought the 
hand of Blanche, Princess of Navarre, sister 
of Berengaria. But when Raymond of Tou- 
louse begged that the next Court of Love 
might sit at Carcassonne, the strongest fortress 
of Eastern Provence, and that Queen Eleanor 
would deign to preside as now, receiving the 
keys of the castle in token that the old quarrel 
for the possession of Langue d' Oc was hap- 



262 Feudal Chateaux 

pily settled by his marriage with the Princess 
Joan, the Queen angrily refused to listen to 
his proposition, and summarily adjourned the 
court. 

" One other pair of suppliants would have 
besought her grace if Richard could then 
have acted according to the dearest wish of 
his heart ; but, like most princes, he had no 
freedom of choice, having been contracted by 
his father to the Princess Alix, sister of the 
King of France. The engagement had been 
entered into when Richard was seven and the 
little Princess three. Now, though nearly 
twenty years had elapsed since the Princess 
had been given into the care of King Henry 
to be given an English education, as befitted 
her future position, she was kept at Win- 
chester, and Richard was not allowed to 
meet his promised bride. Since Richard had 
heard Berengaria tell her legend this priva- 
tion had not seemed to him so erievous. He 
had been reading a poem which a minstrel 
from Normandy had submitted to him, the 
Roina2tnt of the Rose, by Guillaume de Lorris, 
and it chimed with his own feelings. The poet 
sang, 

' Harde is his heart that loveth nought 
In May, when all this mirth is wrought, 



The Lodestones of Love 263 

When he may on these brannches here 
The smalle birdes singen clere 
Hir blissful swete song piteous, 
And in this season deliteous : 

Within my twentie yeere of age 
When that love taketh his courage 
Of younge folke — 
Joliffe and gay, full of gladnesse 
Toward a river gan I me dresse.' 

" This reminded him that he had composed a 
barcarole, which he had promised to sing to- 
night to Berengaria, on the moon-silvered Ga- 
ronne. He caught up his lute and his cap 
with the troubadour's peacock plume, when 
his mother entered the room. Her manner 
showed deep disquietude, but Richard, in his 
preoccupation, did not notice it. He took her 
in his arms and told her of his love for Beren- 
garia. * I shall demand of your grace at your 
court to-morrow to absolve me from my vows 
to the Princess Alix,' he said gaily, * and the 
jury will surely grant my plea.' 

" The look of pain in his mother's eyes deep- 
ened, so that now he could not fail to note it. ' 

" ' It is what would pleasure most your false 
betrothed and falser father,' she replied in a 
choked voice. 

"' How so?' Richard demanded. 



264 Feudal Chateaux 

" 'John has just arrived from England. He 
tells me that it is certain that Henry loves his 
ward with more than fatherly affection, and 
that he is inquiring as to the possibility of a 
divorce from me.' 

" Richard swore a terrible oath: 'Par le goi^ge 
de Dieu, my mother shall never be so dishon- 
oured ! It is an insult to me as well. Alix is 
my affianced bride. The King of France shall 
help me demand my right to his sister.' 

" Eleanor smiled sadly. ' And is Berengaria 
forofotten so soon ? ' she asked. 

" ' Berengaria shall decide for me,' Richard 
groaned. And Berengaria nobly bade him 
be true to his engagements, and refused to 
listen to the love of a man who was betrothed 
to another. 

" Among the fantastical questions brought up 
on the morrow was one mooted by Prince 
John. 

" ' While dancing with that fair and tricksy 
little maid, Isabelle of Angouleme,' he as- 
serted, ' I besought her for her love. Where- 
upon she made answer that she had just been 
affianced to Hugh de Lusignan ; but that if 
ever a time should arrive when she should be 
deprived of this lover, she would then give ear 
to my prayers, and adopt me for his successor. 



The Lodestones of Love 265 

I therefore make inquisition whether it is per- 
mitted me to compass this gentleman's death.' 

"The question was asked in sport, for Isabelle 
was a mere child. John's affections at this time 
were supposed to be otherwise enlisted, and 
no one foresaw the terrible feud which the 
girl's favour would create between himself and 
Lusignan. 

" Eleanor's answer was characteristic of her 
bright wit and easy morality. 

" ' There need be no quarrel,' she gave sen- 
tence, ' for we are not inclined to controvert 
the decision of the Countess of Champagne 
(made at a Court of Love held under her 
jurisdiction), to the effect that true love can- 
not exist between married people. This, a 
solemn and deliberate decree of the afore- 
mentioned court, ought to hold good. There- 
fore, Prince John has but to wait until the 
couple are married, for then in gaining a hus- 
band the Lady Isabelle will have lost her 
lover, and her conditions will be fulfilled.' 

"When the gay encampment broke up, and 
the silken pavilions were struck, as many aching 
as happy hearts wended homeward from the 
Court of Love, — the last which Queen Eleanor 
was to hold in romantic Provence, for now fol- 
lowed her imprisonment by her husband, at 



266 Feudal Chateaux 

Winchester, and the stormy period during 
which Henry was at war in France with his sons 
and with the Comte de Toulouse. 

" After the latter had been subjugated 
Richard met his father at Chinon. It was an un- 
satisfactory meeting for both, for Richard, who 
was passionately attached to his mother, called 
his father to account for her imprisonment, de- 
manded to be recognised as heir to the throne 
of England, and to be told the Kind's inten- 
tions in regard to the Princess Alix. The 
King equivocated, — he would promise nothing; 
as for Richard's betrothed, he could not give 
her up either to Richard or to her brother, the 
King of France, for the young lady, though 
she should never wed Richard, might still be- 
come the Queen of England. It was not 
stransfe that, never havino- been associated 
with her betrothed, she should care more for 
his brother John, with whom she had been 
brought up. The King counselled Richard to 
give her up peaceably. 

" What the fiery Prince heard did indeed 
strengthen Richard's determination to give up 
the Princess Alix, but not peaceably. Whether 
it was John or his father who had stolen the 
affections of his betrothed did not greatly 
matter. He felt himself insulted in either 



The Lodestones of Love 267 

case, and saw plainly that his father intended 
to continue his mother's imprisonment, and to 
set aside his own rights in favour of his younger 
brother John. He disguised his anger, but 
fled from Chinon that night, and did homage 
to Philip, calling upon him to maintain his own 
heirship to the throne of England. Philip was 
smarting under the loss of Toulouse and he 
saw the advantage of an alliance with Richard. 
They swore to defend each other and each 
other's interests, and were so inseparable that 
they slept in the same bed and drank from the 
same cup. The Pope was calling for a cru- 
sade, Saladin was overrunning the Holy Land, 
and Richard and Philip vowed to undertake 
one together as soon as Richard's rights were 
established. Philip insisted, too, that the 
engagement with his sister should be consum- 
mated, and called upon King Henry to restore 
the Princess or he would come for her. 

" But fiery old King Henry did not wait to be 
attacked. With such forces as he could raise 
he advanced to Le Mans, where he was besieged 
and routed by Philip. Fleeing from the city 
he rode madly back to Chinon, where his over- 
exertion, rage, and disappointment threw him 
into a burning fever. Philip followed him, 
took Tours, and summoned Henry to meet 



268 Feudal Chateaux 

him at Colombieres. Though very ill he 
rode out and kept the appointment in a vio- 
lent thunder-storm, fainting after signing a 
humiliating peace. He returned to Chinon, 
where for several days he lay dying, muttering: 
' Shame on a conquered king.' 

" One faithful son there was who was at his 
side on the mad rout from le Mans, who 
nursed him tenderly, sent word to Richard 
that his father was dying, and held him in his 
arms when he expired, robed his body in royal 
state, and caused it to be borne across the 
bridge which he had built to connect the castle 
with the abbey. Could this have been written 
of the King's best beloved son, John, it would 
have covered a multitude of sins ; but John had 
treacherously signed the French alliance, and 
it was his name on the list which Philip showed 
him that broke the old King's heart. The son 
who was so faithfully filial had least reason to 
be so, for he was William Longsword, the child 
of Henry and the deeply wronged fair ' Rosa- 
monde' Clifford, whose bower at Woodstock 
Eleanor discovered from the bit of floss silk 
on her husband's spur. The romantic legend 
states that, wondering where the King could 
have picked up this dainty follower, Eleanor 
cleverly detached the silk without attracting 



The Lodestones of Love 269 

his notice, and afterwards, following the clue, 
assured herself of his unfaith. It was a double 
perfidy, for Rosamonde believed herself a law- 
ful wife, and on learning the truth retired to 
Godstow Nunnery. 

" Richard obeyed the summons of his half- 
brother, and threw himself before his father's 
body in an agony of remorse, vainly seeking 
forgiveness from the lifeless clay. As he 
touched his father's hand a drop of blood ap- 
peared beneath the nostril, and Richard, recog- 
nising the sign by which a corpse was supposed 
to designate its murderer, exclaimed in horror, 
* It is true. It is I who have killed him.' 

"He left Chinon, taking with him Long- 
sword, who was ever after his loved companion. 
A bat flew in his face as he rode across the draw- 
bridge, seemingly opposing his departure, and 
he told his brother the legend of Mabile, add- 
ing : * Is it any wonder that we are accursed, 
seeing that we are descended from Satan ? His 
imps haunt this castle still ; I shall never return 
to it again.' There was no familiar spirit at 
hand to foretell that he was doomed to return 
in exactly ten years, mortally wounded, to die 
where his father had died, and be buried at his 
feet. 

" His first act now was to liberate his mother. 



2/0 Feudal Chateaux 

and to order that the Princess AHx should be 
sent back to her brother. He was so impa- 
tient to set out upon his Crusade that he could 
hardly await his coronation and appoint his 
mother reo^ent. The treasurer of the kinedom 
raised an enormous sum to defray the ex- 
penses of this expedition, which Richard quickly 
undertook. 

" He had named Messina as the trysting- 
place, where he would join forces with King 
Philip for the voyage to Palestine. He had a 
brotherly duty to perform here, for his sister 
Joan had been married to the King of Sicily, 
but on the death of her husband Tancred 
had usurped her dominions, and confined the 
widowed Queen a close prisoner in the castle. 
Before departing on the expedition Richard 
confided to his mother his love for Beren- 
garia, and the Queen, right pleased, set out for 
Navarre, to ask her of her father. She pro- 
spered so well in her mission that the Princess 
went with her to Italy to meet and marry 
Richard and accompany him on the Crusade. 

" Richard on his arrival at Messina speedily 
brought Tancred to terms and secured liberty 
and a moneyed indemnity for his sister Joan. 
But he had a harder task in persuading the wily 
Philip to release him from his engagement to 



The Lodestones of Love 271 

Alix. Philip argued that his sister's dower, the 
city of Gisprs, had been accepted by King 
Henry. Piers of Langtoft in his quaint poem 
gives Richard's answer : 

' " Now," said King Richard, " that menace may not be. 
For thou shalt have ward of Gisors thy citee 

And treasure ilk a deal." 
Richard yielded him his right, his treasure, and his town, 
Before witness at sight, 

(Of clerke and eke baron,) 
His sister he might marry, wherever God might like. 
And to make certainty, Richard a quittance took.' 

" When Eleanor and Berengaria arrived in 
Messina it was Lent, an impossible season for 
marriage, and as the Queen could not tarry 
longer from her regency in England — 

' She beleft Berengere, 
At Richard's costage. 
Queen Joanne held her dear, 
They lived as doves in cage.' 

** Richard led his fleet of fifty ships and fifty 
galleys in the Tronc du Mer. The two ladies 
followed in one of the strongest ships, and the 
wedding took place at Easter, in the island of 
Cyprus. 

" ' On their arrival at Acre,' says Bernard 
le Tresorier, ' it was very grievous to the King 
of France to know that Richard was married to 
any other than to his sister ; yet he received 



2 72 Feudal Chateaux 

Berengaria with great courtesy, taking her in 
his arms and Hfting her on shore himself from 
the boat to the beach.' 

[Richard's exploits in Palestine have been 
too often recounted in history and romance, to 
be dwelt upon here. It is the fashion of these 
later days to decry Scott, but the man or 
woman who has not been brought up on the 
Waverley novels, can never have quite the same 
love for knightly days and deeds, and has 
lost much of the charm of life. To Scott we 
refer the reader for Richard's career during the 
next seven years.] 

" Returning, as they had set out, in separate 
vessels, that which bore Berengaria and Joan 
arrived safely at Naples. At Marseilles the 
ladies were met by Raymond, son of the Count 
of Toulouse, who was himself returning from 
the Crusade, who offered his escort to protect 
them on their journey through his father's 
domain to Aquitaine. He had not met Joan 
since the memorable Court of Love, but he 
renewed his suit, and Eleanor, learning how 
long and faithfully he had loved her, did not 
now refuse her consent. Eleanor's heart was 
possibly softened by grief ; and now a terrible 
anxiety arose for both her and for Berengaria. 
Richard's ship had not been heard from since 



The Lodestones of Love 273 

it set sail from Palestine, and, assuming that it 
had suffered shipwreck and that all on board 
were drowned, John clamoured for the kingdom. 
Eleanor steadfastly opposed him ; and John 
entered into an alliance with Philip, promis- 
ing to marry the poor Princess Alix, who had 
been so cheaply bandied back and forth. In re- 
turn he was to have only England, for Rich- 
ard's French possessions, on the supposition 
of his death, had declared for young Arthur of 
Brittany, the son of Geoffrey Plantagenet and 
of Constance. 

" At length the troubadour Blondel, wander- 
ing through Austria, heard of a prisoner in 
the strong fortress of Trifels who sang French 
songs to cheer his captivity. His suspicions 
were excited, and at the foot of the tower he 
sang the first verse of the tenson which he and 
Richard had composed together : 

* Personne, o ma charmante datne, 

Ne iwus voit sans vous aimer. 
Mais comment attendrir une dme 

Qu 'aucun jamais ne sut charmer ? 
Faut il puis que tous se desolejit, 
Que les maux d'autrui me consolent? ' 

" Scarcely had he finished when the powerful 
voice of Richard replied with the second 
stanza : 



2 74 Feudal Chateaux 

' y^atnais, non jamais U7ie dame 
JV'aura d'einpire sur moti coeur,- 

Si, irop prodigue de son dme, 
Elle a pour tous une faveur, 

Plutdt loin d 'ime telle reine 

Laissez moi settle porter ma peine. 

" The discovery that Richard was still alive 
was like a thunderbolt to the plotters, but 
Philip and John did not quite give up hope. 
He was in prison, and for any help of theirs 
he might stay there. 

" Eleanor, still undaunted, held England for 
him, though she signed herself at this time, 
* Eleanor, by the Wrath of God Queen of 
England.' It was now that she wrote her 
famous letter to the Pope, endeavouring to 
induce him to order Richard's release. 

' If I leave my son's dominions,' she wrote, ' invaded 
as they are on every side, they will on my departure lose 
all counsel : if I remain, I shall not behold my son whose 
face I long to see. There will be none to labour for his 
redemption ; and what I fear the most, unused as his 
generous youth is to such terrible calamities, he will not 
survive all he has to endure.' 

" At length Philip sent John that well-known 
message : ' Look to yourself, for the devil is 
unchained.' 

" Richard had been released on payment of 
an enormous ransom raised in great part by 



The Lodestones of Love 275 

the exertions of the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, the second son of Rosamonde Chfford. 
John threw himself upon his mercy. 

" ' I forgive you, John ' said his brother, ' and 
I wish I could as easily forget your offence as 
you will my pardon.' 

" But Richard could not so easily condone 
Philip's double-dealing. He now understood 
thoroughly his treacherous character, and un- 
til his dying day never went to confession 
for fear that he would be obliged to forgive 
him. 

"He forgave even Philip at last, and the 
archer who fired the poisoned shaft which 
killed him. He was of a magnanimous nature 
and it was easier for him to forgive than to 
cherish a grudge ; but when he believed him- 
self forgotten by his dearest friends his heart 
grew very bitter, as is shown by some verses 
written during his imprisonment : 

' No captive knight, whom chains confine, 
Can tell his fate, and not repine ; 
Yet with a song he cheers the gloom 
That hangs around his living tomb. 
Shame to my friends ! the king remains ; 

Two years unransomed and in chains. 

' Now let them know, my brave barons, 
English, Normans, and Gascons, 



276 Feudal Chateaux 

Not a liegeman so poor have I 
That I would not his freedom buy. 
Oh, what a blot upon their name 
If I should perish thus in shame ! 

* Ye Troubadours, and friends of mine, 
Brave Chail, noble Pensauvine, 
Go, tell my rivals, in your song. 
This heart hath never done them wrong. 
He infamy, not glory, gains 
Who leaves a monarch in his chains.' 

" Even the faithful Berengaria was doubted. 
The verse of the tenson with which he had re- 
plied to Blondel was the true expression of his 
feelinofs : 

' No longer such a faithless dame 

Shall hold dominion o'er my heart. 
Quenched is her feeble flickering flame 
And I alone can bear my smart.' 

" Richard cruelly wronged his wife by these 
suspicions, for Berengaria had governed Aqui- 
taine for him, and with the assistance of her 
brother, Sancho the Strong, had kept in check 
the grasping hand of Philip. But some mali- 
cious tongue must have traduced her, for on 
his liberation Richard pushed directly to Eng- 
land to throw himself into the arms of his 
mother, but cruelly slighted his sweet wife. 
For years she waited patiently, still strangely 



The Lodestones of Love 277 

doubted and neglected. His excuse that he 
had now no time for dahiance was not a vaHd 
one, — though it is true that after his return he 
found much to do. In spite of John's treason, 
the devotion of his mother and the zeal of the 
primate had held the heart and resources of 
England for him, but he realised that his 
French possessions were slipping from his 
hands. It was not alone Philip's power or 
treachery ; the loyalty of the people themselves 
was wavering : ' Were they not French ? why 
should they serve an English king ? ' 

"In the few years that followed, Richard 
showed his ability as a ruler and his military 
skill as never before. Heroic in action, splen- 
did in his court, gallant, generous, worshipped 
by all who knew him whether men or women, 
chivalric, poetic, fiery, passionate in love and 
hate, but none so courteous to a conquered foe, 
he had ever been ; but these were personal 
qualities of a hero of romance rather than the 
practical abilities necessary for the success of a 
sovereign ruling indifferent subjects and op- 
posed by crafty enemies. To the astonishment 
of friend and foe Richard now showed that he 
possessed the very sagacity which they sup- 
posed he lacked. With wisdom and tact he 
won back the falterlncr allep-iance of his French 



278 Feudal Chateaux 

barons. Flanders was drawn away from Its 
French alliance; the Counts of Chartres, Cham- 
pagne, and Boulogne came to his standard. 
He subdued the rebels of Aquitaine, and made 
an alliance with Germany against Philip ; and 
while carrying on these shrewd diplomatic 
campaigns he surprised all by another proof 
of the versatility of his genius, in showing that 
the poet was equally a master as a military 
engineer. His observation of the systems of 
Saracenic and Austrian fortification had not 
been thrown away. In his long imprisonment 
he had not spent all his time in stringing 
together tensons ; but he had thought out 
combinations, and invented new methods of 
defence, which now lifted him to the rank of 
the first engineer and architect of his time, 
VIollet-le-Duc awards him this distinction, and 
points out the original details in the system of 
fortification which he introduced In his Chateau 
Gaillard, his '' fille d'tm an ' which now rose as 
by magic in a twelvemonth on a strategic point 
covering Rouen, a site chosen with the keenest 
foresight as the bastion of Normandy against 
Philip. ' Chateau Gaillard,' says one his- 
torian, ' Is the ofrcatest monument — greater 
even than his Eastern exploits — of the genius 
of Richard.' And Green adds : 



The Lodestones of Love 279 

' As a monument of warlike skill this " Saucy Castle " 
stands first among the fortresses of the Middle Ages. 
Richard fixed its site where the Seine bends suddenly at 
Gaillon in a great semicircle to the north, flashing like a 
silver bow on its way to Rouen. The castle formed part 
of an entrenched camp which Richard designed to cover 
his Norman capital. Approach by the river was blocked 
by a stockade and a bridge of boats, by a fort on the 
islet in midstream, and by a tower on the bank. On a ', 
spur of the chalk hills rose, at the height of three hun- 
dred feet above the river, the crowning fortress of the 
whole. Its outworks have for the most part gone, but 
time and the hand of man have done little to destroy the 
fortifications themselves — the fosse hewn deep into the 
solid rock, with casements hollowed out along its sides, 
the fluted walls of the citadel, the huge donjon, looking 
down on the brown roofs and huddled gables of Les 
Andelys. Even now in its ruin we can understand the 
triumphant outburst of its royal builder as he saw it ris- 
ing against the sky : " How pretty a child is mine, this 
child of but one year old ! " ' 

"■ The ' fluted wahs ' of which Green speaks 
were not merely ornamental. Indeed there 
was no sculpture, no mouldings, not a single 
feature in the entire castle designed simply for 
ornament. They were a series of flanking 
towers, hitherto unknown in France, and in 
their arrangfement an invention of Richard's. 
They were semicircular, each touchi-ngthe other, 
and making in plan a scalloped line with the 
curves on the outside, the precursor of the 



28o Feudal Chateaux 

scarp and counterscarp of Vauban. Richard 
did not fohow either Norman or French tradi- 
tions, but by the use of these and other origi- 
nal features rendered his fortress well-nigh 
impregnable against the means of attack then 
known, 

" Philip scoffed at the report of these new in- 
ventions, and vowed that he would take the 
castle though it were made of iron. Richard 
replied with the vaunt that he could hold 
it against him though it were made of butter ; 
and indeed it was the general who held the 
fortress rather than the strength of the fortifi- 
cations that Philip feared. As long as Richard 
lived Philip dared not push by Gaihard or 
attack it, and if John had not been as incom- 
petent as he was cowardly, it could not have 
been taken, and Normandy would have re- 
mained an English possession. 

" Richard had accomplished wonders in 
strengthening his position, but he had lavished 
enormous sums and was in great need of 
money. It was in the spring of 1199 that a 
rumour was brougrht that an enormous treasure 
had been found in the fields of Limousin near 
the castle of Chains. A peasant ploughing had 
fallen into a subterranean cavern which rivalled 
that of Aladdin. Twelve golden statues of 



The Lodestones of Love 281 

knights of Hfe size were seated around a golden 
table, which was laden with a golden service, 
heaped with jewels instead of food. Richard 
at once felt himself ravenously hungry to par- 
take of such dainty cheer, and sent a message 
to that effect to Lord Vidomar of Limousin 
(his vassal), inviting himself to the banquet, 
and urging his right as suzerain to the lion's 
share of the treasure-trove. The lord replied 
that no such treasure had been discovered, 
only a few suits of rusted armour with bones 
within them, the remains doubtless of knights 
who had been buried there years before after 
some battle with the Moors. 

" Did the message bring up the old story 
which Berengaria had made her theme at the 
Court of Love ? or was it simply greed for 
money that impelled Richard to the fateful 
assault of the castle of Chains ? 

" Hither he came at any rate, and made a last 
demand for the treasure. His vassal lord sent 
him a suit of antique armour of peculiar pat- 
tern, protesting that nothing more valuable 
had been discovered. Richard did not believe 
him, considered this trifling response an insult 
to his authority, and swore to take the castle 
clothed in this travesty on his power, and to 
hang all its defenders. While girding the 



282 Feudal Chateaux 

rusty harness about him the old legend must 
have come to his mind, if he had not thought 
of it before, for on the shoulder-pieces and 
belt crlowed like baleful coals the magfic car- 
buncles. 

" The Lodestones of Love had not lost their 
power during their long burial. 

" Joan, Richard's sister, was in trouble. The 
same atrocities to which her son was afterwards 
subjected, in the persecution of the Albigenses, 
were being committed upon the vassals and 
castles of Toulouse by the joint machinations 
of the Pope and of King Philip. Joan hurried 
for succour to her old friend Berengaria, to 
whom a messenger had just brought word that 
Richard was on the border. She doubtless 
told herself that it was the need of his sister 
which broke down all restraints of injured dig- 
nity ; but Berengaria felt at that moment the 
irresistible drawing of the most powerful of 
lodestones, — all-forgiving, faithful love, — and 
with a little train the two women dashed on to 
Chalus. 

** They reached the English only to learn that 
Richard, who had ventured dangerously near 
the walls, had been shot in the shoulder by an 
arrow from an arquebus, the corroded links that 
held the jewelled shoulder-plate having broken. 



The Lodestones of Love 28 



o 



Though the castle was taken, gangrene had 
set in, and the King lay dying. The shock 
was too great for Joan, who, exhausted by 
what she had already borne, fell dead in Beren- 
garia's arms at the news. Berengaria in this 
terrible calamity showed herself the heroine 
she was, and had. the inexpressible happiness 
of a complete reconciliation with her husband 
before his death. They were not far from 
Chinon, and to that fateful home of the brother 
and sister Berengaria carried the dying Rich- 
ard and the body of Joan. Side by side they 
lie at Fontevraud at the feet of their father 
and mother, a peaceful home-coming at last. 
Berengaria retired to her dower city of le 
Mans, and here she founded the Abbey of 
Espan and died at an advanced age. It would 
have been fittingr to have carried her to Font- 
evraud, but the nuns of Espan would not give 
up the body of the royal foundress of their 
abbey. It was mistaken devotion. She should 
have been laid beside Richard, and Matthew 
Arnold's lines would seemingly have been 
written of them, even as now, with slight 
change, they apply to the carved effigies of 
Henry and Eleanor. 

' So rest, for ever rest, O royal pair ! 
In yon high church, 'mid the still mountain air, 



284 Feudal Chateaux 

Where horn and hound and vassals never come, 
Where thou, O King, shalt nevermore arise 
From the fringed mattress where thy consort lies, 
On autumn mornings when the bugle sounds. 
And ride across the drawbridge with thy hounds 
To hunt the boar in the crisp woods till eve. 
And thou, O lady, shalt no more receive, 
Thou and thy maidens in the hall of state. 
The jaded hunters with their bloody freight, 
Coming benighted to the castle gate. 
So sleep, for ever sleep, O marble pair ! 
And if ye wake, let it be then when fair 
On the carved western front a flood of light 
Streams from the setting sun, and colours bright 
Prophets, transfigured saints, and martyrs brave. 
In the vast western window of the nave ; 
And on the pavement round the tomb there glints 
A checker-work of glowing sapphire tints, 
And amethyst, and ruby ; then unclose 
Your eyelids on the stone where ye repose, 
And from your broidered pillows lift your heads. 
And rise upon your cold white marble beds, 
And looking down on the warm, rosy tints 
That checker at your feet the illumined flints, 
Say : What is this ? we are in bliss, forgiven ; 
Behold the pavement of the Courts of Heaven ! ' " 




^,1. ,.VS^!1|t5ttf! 



CHAPTER VII 



THE SIEGE OF CHATEAU GAILLARD 

But one short year had passed away 

When Castle Gaillard rose, 
As built at once by elfin hands 

And scorning time or foes. 

It might be thought that Merlin's imps 

Were tasked to raise the wall, 
That unheard axes fell the woods, 

While unseen hammers fall. 

As hung by magic on a rock 

The castle keep looked down 
O'er rocks and rivers, and the smoke 

Of many a far-off town. 

And now young knights and minstrels gay 

Obeyed their master's call. 
And, loud rejoicing, held the feast 

In the new-raftered hall. 

William Lisle Bowles. 

LONG after our visit to Chinon, as we were 
on the point of leaving France, we made 
a flying trip from Rouen to Chateau Gaillard, 



286 Feudal Chateaux 

the famous fortress bulk by Richard CcEur de 
Lion to enable him to hold Normandy. 

As we climbed the steep cliff we were filled 
with admiration for the genius which had chosen 
this wonderful site, rendered almost impreg- 
nable by nature, and so completely command- 
ing the Seine, which bent lazily around it in a 
great horseshoe curve, and was the only high- 
way to the Norman capital of Rouen, twenty 
miles away. Philip would never have taken 
the fortress if the master-mind which built it 
had commanded at the time of the siege ; but 
Richard, who finished Gaillard in 1198, was 
killed before Chalus the following year, and 
the French king recognised his opportunity. 

We stood in the great keep and wondered 
how it was ever taken. We had asked for 
a guide at the village of Little Andelys, and 
had been told that the best one that the town 
afforded was now conducting a party about 
the ruins. He was a little "scattered," the 
innkeeper said, significantly touching his head, 
as to matters of the present century, but none 
so rehable on all historical points. He had 
studied military engineering at St. Cyr and 
had assisted Viollet-le-Duc in his restorations 
at Pierrefonds. He was a crank on fortresses ; 
we might rely on him perfectly for anything 



Chateau Gaillard. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 287 

before Vauban — but he never took his diploma 
at the Academy, for he said the Dark Ages 
were so interesting that he did not care to 
study anything after the invention of gun- 
powder. 

We had seen no one about the ruins, and 
quite congratulated ourselves on having 
escaped the " scattered one," who, we were 
persuaded, must be a great bore with his arch- 
aeological treatises. We sat down under the 
walls where the view was finest, and proceeded 
to read the Lay of Talbot the Troubadour, in 
which William Lisle Bowles tells so well the 
story of the finding of the little daughter of 
the Earl of Salisbury. The child had been 
stolen by the French while Richard was build- 
ing Gaillard, and had been hidden in a castle 
in Normandy. Talbot offered to go through 
the country disguised as a wandering minstrel 
and discover the little maid. This he effected 
in the same way that Blondel found Richard, 
— by singing familiar ballads beneath the castle 
walls. 

By right of poetic justice Talbot should 
have been rewarded for this romantic quest 
by the hand of the little heiress ; but Rich- 
ard favoured his half-brother, for his love for 
William Longsword had become a passion 



288 Feudal Chateaux 

since the night when he found that the son of 
Rosamonde CHfford had performed the last 
offices due to King Henry from his legitimate 
but rebellious children. On one of those high 
days of revelry after the completion of the 
castle, the ballad tells us, — 

" At Gaillard Richard kept his state 
Released from captive thrall ; 
And girt with many a warrior guest 
He feasted in the hall. 

" His minstrels and his mailed peers 
Were seated at the board, 
And at his side the highest sat 
William of the Long Sword. 

" This youthful knight, of princely birth, 
Was dazzling to behold. 
For his chain mail from head to foot 
All glistened o'er with gold. 

" His surcoat dyed with azure blue 
In graceful foldings hung, 
And there the golden lions ramped, 
With bloody claws and tongue. 

*' With crimson belt around his waist 
His sword was girded on ; 
The hilt, a cross to kiss in death, 
Radiant with jewels shone. 

" The names and banners of each knight 
It were too long to tell ; 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 289 

Here sat the brave Montgomery, 
There Bertrand and Rozell. 

" So all within was merriment, 
When suddenly, a shout 
As of some unexpected guest 
Burst from the crowd without. 

** Now not a sound, and scarce a breath, 
Through the long hall is heard, 
When, with a young maid by his side, 
A visored knight appeared, 

" Up the long hall they held their way 
On to the royal seat ; 
Then both together, hand in hand, 
Knelt at King Richard's feet. 

" ' Talbot, a Talbot ! ' rang the hall. 
With gratulation wild, 

* Long live brave Talbot, and long live 

Earl William's new-found child ! ' 

" Amid a scene so new and strange 
This poor maid could not speak ; 
King Richard took her by the hand 
And gently kissed her cheek ; 

" Then placed her, smiling through a tear, 
By his brave brother's side : 

* Long live brave Longspe ! ' rang the hall, 

* Long live his future bride ! ' 

" To noble Richard this fair child, 
■ His ward, was thus restored ; 
Destined to be the future bride 
Of him of the Long Sword." 



290 Feudal Chateaux 

" After all," commented my husband, as he 
drew several small paper-covered volumes of 
ballads from his overcoat pockets, " the poets 
are the only guides we want to these old 
castles. What do we care for the stupid 
researches of the antiquarians ? What we 
need to make the castle live is the story of an 
eye-witness who endured the siege and saw the 
French forces hemminar in the orarrison like a 

o o 

pack of hungry wolves. That is the only point 
of view I care for." 

" Then I can be of no service to Monsieur," 
said a melancholy voice at my elbow, " for I 
was with the French." 

We started, and turning saw a slight, dark 
man of indefinable age, for his face was beard- 
less, and though his brow was wrinkled it had 
rather the effect of the scowl which comes from 
intense thouQfht than the lines which mark the 
passage of time. His hair, which was cut 
squarely across his forehead and even with his 
shoulders, was dark and waving. His eyes 
were preternaturally bright and his nervous 
finorers were thin and claw-like. I fancied from 
his costume that he was an acrobat who had 
strolled up the cliff from some wandering 
circus, for he wore trunk hose and a jerkin of 
soft leather laced down the front. On his 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 291 

wrist he carried a fine falcon, belled and 
hooded. 

" That was a stirring ballad," he continued, 
for we were both too much surprised to speak, 
"and a good description of William Long- 
sword. He was ever a trifle too glorious in his 
dress, but that was because he was young. I 
would like to have seen Richard ; my mas- 
ter adored him, though he was English. We 
would not have joined King Philip and have 
assisted at the siege of this castle if Richard 
had lived, but we thought King John was in 
the castle and we had more reason to hate him 
than most." 

" Who was your master?" I asked wonder- 

ingly. 

" Hugh de Lusignan," replied this singular 
man. " He was Richard's comrade as a Cru- 
sader in Palestine. You must have heard of 
him, even if you are not French." 

My husband pulled himself together with an 
effort. " Did you happen to go to the Crusades 
with Lusignan and Coeur de Lion?" he asked, 
sarcastically. 

" No, Monsieur, I was too young ; I was only 
a page at Le Croizant, the castle of the Lusign- 
ans among the wild mountains In Creuse. It 
Is In ruins now, and It was a lonely place then. 



292 Feudal Chateaux 

with my lord's old aunt as chatelaine ; and the 
pretty little Isabelle of Angouleme, my lord's 
betrothed, who was being bred up in the castle, 
had but a tiresome life when my lord was away 
upon the King's business. I had charge of the 
dove-cote. The Lusignan pigeons were the 
best carriers in France, and my lord never went 
from home without a willow basket of them, 
and every now and then he would send one 
homing with a tender missive beneath its wing 
for the Countess Isabelle. She came to the 
dove-cote every morning, and would cry, ' Mount 
the ladder, Papiol, and search the nests, and see 
if there is no tired messenger with a letter for 
me.' She was only fifteen, but a queen in her 
bearing even then, and when my lord went on 
the Crusade she bade him bring her a present 
more costly than that brought back to any 
other lady by her lover. 

" My lord took a standard in one of the 
charges from five Moslems. One of them 
stripped the banner from the pole and fled 
with it, but Lusignan killed the other four and 
brought away the staff, with the gilded cres- 
cent on the top. He gave that to his love and 
she was well pleased, for it had cost him many 
wounds. She had it nailed over the entrance 
to the castle and named the castle Le Croizant 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 293 

(the crescent). It was a pagan thing, and it 
may be it was responsible for the ill luck that 
came to him. He never prized a thing which 
was not coveted and taken from him. Even 
the treasure which King Richard took from 
the Lord of Chains should have been Lusign- 
an's by good rights, for it had been buried in 
that underground cave by his ancestress, the 
fairy Melusine." 

" What became of the treasure after Rich- 
ard's death ? " I asked eagerly. 

" Richard gave it to his brother of the Long 
Sword, who brought it here to Chateau Gaillard, 
the strongest fortress in France. King Philip 
besieged it, as you know, but he would have 
had still greater difhcult)?' in taking it if my 
master had not helped him, and my master 
would not have gone on that campaign but for 
his betrothed." 

"We all know that episode in history," said 
my husband: "that John hurried to Chinon 
after Richard's death, and was there acknow- 
ledgfed King- ; that while there he sent for fair 
Isabelle of Angouleme (whom he had met at 
his mother's Court of Love), and married her at 
Bordeaux, 'to the scandal of knighthood,' 
August 24th, of the year 1 200. We have read, 
too, how Hugh de Lusignan sent the King a 



294 Feudal Chateaux 

challenge to mortal combat, which John treated 
with contempt ; how Lusignan joined young 
Arthur of Brittany in his revolt against his 
uncle ; and, when both were taken prisoners, 
how John made a progress of his domains, drag- 
ging his wife's lover after him in a narrow cage 
placed on a rough tumbril drawn by oxen, ' a 
mode of travelling,' says the chronicler, ' to 
which the noble Lusignan was not accustomed.' 
1 presume you would have us believe that you 
accompanied that gala procession ?" 

" Alas, no. If I had been there and had 
seen that indignity to my dear lord I would 
have sent an arrow throuo^h the Kind's heart. 
There was not a man on the Lusignan estates 
that did not burn to take arms against the 
English after that. And when our master 
escaped from the dungeon in which King John 
had ordered that he should be starved to 
death, and King Philip declared war upon 
England to aveno-e the murder of Prince 
Arthur, the men of La Marche were the first 
to take the field under the Lusiornan banner 
with the gold crescent on the top of the staff. 

" Only Chateau Gaillard here, manned by 
the knights Richard had left in it, with some 
Norman men-at-arms, opposed the progress of 
the French, and hither Philip led us and sat 



The Siee^e of Chateau Gaillard 295 



'fe 



him down for a long siege on an autumn day 
in 1203, — a year I have good cause to remem- 
ber. If Monsieur and Madame would like an 
account of the siege from an eye-witness I 
will describe it exactly as I saw it, I and this 
falcon, for we are the only survivors." 

" Chatter on, if it amuses you," said my 
husband, " provided you will let me engage 
you as a model, and pose, while you are talking, 
for a picture, which I will call ' The Falconer's 
Story,' for you make up extremely well." 

" Pardon, Monsieur, I make up nothing. If 
my account is not to be credited " 

" I referred to your physical accoutrement,'" 
the artist replied, apologetically. " Far be it 
from me to doubt that you are a trifle over 
seven hundred years old, though really you 
don't look it." 

" You have only to look about you," said 
Papiol, settling himself to his story, " to un- 
derstand exactly how it all happened. This, 
spur of cliff juts out like a peninsula from the 
main highland, and as it was impossible for an 
assault to be made up the precipitous sides 
of the cliff, with the river bathing it below, 
it was only at the point where the peninsula 
joins the table-land that an attack was to be 
expected. At this point Richard built the 



296 Feudal Chateaux 

bastion, or advance fort. It was triangfular in 
shape, with a strong tower at the point which 
would be our first point of attack, and a very 
deep moat had been dug all around it. Be- 
hind this forework was the real fortress, with a 
great ' bailey,' or courtyard, surrounded by high 
walls with strong towers at every angle. In 
the bailey were many buildings which made 
life more convenient-like, — stables and work- 
shops, barracks for the men, and a chapel, — 
but still nothing that was absolutely essen- 
tial. The castle w^ith its inner court was at 
the extreme point of the cliff, a fortress within 
the fortress. So you see we had a good stiff 
piece of work cut out for us. 

" Down on the river, too, the village of Little 
Andelys was fortified, as was that island oppos- 
ite, while the Seine was blocked by a stock- 
ade which effectually prevented the passage 
of our boats until we pulled up all those prickly 
river-plants. 

" Philip expected hard work, and he had 
it ; but he realised the tremendous issues 
which hung upon the result. Aquitaine, which 
had ever been loyal to Queen Eleanor and 
to Richard, had no interest in English John, 
and not Normandy alone but all the English 
possessions in France formed the prize which 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 297 

awaited him if he took Chateau Gaillard. He 
counted, too, on the consternation which had 
fallen on Richard's knights with the death of 
their leader. Do you remember how his 
friend and fellow-troubadour, Gaucelm Faidit, 
voiced the general grief and discouragement 
when he sang : 

' Valour and fame are fled since dead thou art, 
England's King, Richard of the Lion Heart. 

' O noble King ! O knight renowned ! 

Where now is battle's pride 
Since in the lists no longer found 

With conquest at thy side ? 
The Holy Tomb shall linger long 

Within the Moslem's power 
Since God hath willed the brave and strong 

Should wither in an hour. 

' Valour and fame are fled since dead thou art, 
England's King, Richard of the Lion Heart.' 

" Still this lament was not quite true, for 
Richard's companions in arms, many of them 
knights of prowess, were within the fortress. 
The doughty Constable of Chester commanded ; 
William Longsword, after Richard the bravest 
of his time, was thought to be inside the walls ; 
and if King John had given the garrison the 
enthusiasm which would have resulted from 
defending the royal person they would have 



298 Feudal Chateaux 

had an added incentive for fighting to the 
death. 

" We arrived before the castle at the begin- 
ning of the siege and before the place was 
completely invested. At this time Philip was 
in igrnorance of the fact that the Constable of 
Chester, Roger de Lacey, held command of 
the garrison and hoped that he should be able 
to trap King John himself, with his gay court. 
When my lord heard of the possibility that both 
his hated rival and the still loved Isabelle were 
within these walls his heart was fired by a pas- 
sionate desire for revenge and for the recovery 
of his betrothed. He believed that she had 
been forced into an odious marriage by her 
parents. He had noted many a look of pity 
when he was paraded before her in his degrad- 
ation, and he believed that he owed his life 
and liberty to her intercession. 

*' My master gladly obeyed Philip's command 
to reconnoitre the castle and learn all that was 
possible before it was completely shut off from 
all communication with the outside world. He 
at first proposed to venture in as a spy, but this 
was forbidden by his monarch. He had been too 
long a marked man and his face was too well 
known by the English for him to escape detec- 
tion. His strong desire to ascertain whether 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 299 

the Queen was indeed within the castle quick- 
ened his invention. Thinking that he might 
wish to send some message to Le Croizant he 
had brought with him an osier basket of our 
carrier-pigeons. In his survey of Gaillard he 
noticed that carts containing supplies were still 
received at the postern-gate to the inner fort- 
ress, for the path leading up the cliffs from the 
Seine was not yet in our hands. He therefore 
disguised me as a Norman peasant, and provid- 
ing me with a donkey laden with poultry, sent 
me by a roundabout way to this gate. 

" ' I cannot let you in,' said the warder, * for 
the governor's orders just sent me are, "Admit 
neither man nor beast under forfeiture of your 
life." ' 

"'This is neither man nor beast,' I replied, 
holding up a fat goose. The warder eyed it 
enviously. 

" ' Doubtless,' he said, ' you think to take 
advantage of our straitened condition to drive 
a hard bargain for your wares, but you have 
come to a poor market' 

" * Harkee, man,' I replied, falling back to a 
certain extent upon the truth, which promised 
in this instance to serve me better than any 
fiction ; ' I am no poulterer. My master, a 
wealthy farmer hereabouts, pities the condition 



300 Feudal Chateaux 

of the ladles shut up In this fortress and has 
sent these birds for their use. If thou wilt get 
this cage of pigeons alive to the Queen and 
tell her that she knows them well and him who 
sends them, then for thy trouble thou mayst 
keep these geese of La Marche.' 

" ' Now, marry, thou art a fool to trust me,' 
replied the warder. ' What guaranty hast thou 
that I keep not both pigeons and geese ? ' 

" ' The guaranty of an honest face,' I made 
answer. ' Throw down a rope that I may tie 
It to these panniers and ease my donkey of his 
burden.' 

" Having hoisted my birds I bestrode my 
donkey and followed a circuitous path down the 
hill to the village of Little Andelys, which was 
now only a mass of charred ruins, for our men 
had burned it and held the bridge which com- 
municated with the other side of the Seine. 
Here, giving the countersign, I was allowed to 
enter our lines and report to my master the 
manner in which I had performed my er- 
rand. 

" I was not allowed to do so, however, without 
a serious adventure. On the way I fell in with 
some of the Inhabitants of Little Andelys 
who had fled to the castle for refuQ-e but had 
been refused admittance. Roger de Lacey, 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 301 

foreseeing the prospect of a long siege, in which 
starvation would be the enemy's chief general, 
had judged best not to burden the castle 
with these botiches imttiles. It was a stern 
measure, but a necessity of war. Attempting 
to return to their homes the poor villagers 
found that they had been pillaged and burned 
by the French, who would not allow them to 
pass through or enter their lines. ■ Twelve 
hundred wretched creatures, men, women, and 
children, sat down beneath the castle walls or 
wandered starving on the chalk cliff, which 
they soon cleared of the small animals that 
burrowed there. Their miserable existence 
was prolonged for a time by the dogs which 
were turned from the castle because they, too, 
were useless mouths. A fine pack of hounds, 
with which Richard himself had followed the 
chase, were now in turn hunted by starving 
men, whom the terrible pangs of hunger ren- 
dered fleet of limb and strong of arm. After 
the dogs were all devoured there remained 
nothing but the Seine, which dragged out their 
lives by providing them with water and occa- 
sionally with a small fish. 

The outcast refugees had not reached the 
worst stage of their distress when I met them, 
but they foresaw it and they tore me from my 



302 Feudal Chateaux 

donkey, which they instantly killed, and for 
whose carcass they fought. Horrified by what 
I had seen I begged my master to intercede 
with King Philip for their relief. 

" * That will I,' said Lusignan, ' for I have 
come near enough to starvation myself to like 
it not. Philip shall give these poor wretches 
license to pass in peace through our lines 
whither they will. Thou hast done well. My 
Isabelle (I cannot even now call her the 
Queen) will recognise the pigeons if they find 
their way to her turret instead of to the cook's 
spit. What said the warder ; is she certainly 
in the castle ? ' 

" ' Woman gear of some kind is there, for as I 
stood at the postern I looked up at the gov- 
ernor's dwelling, which is next to the donjon 
keep, and I saw a narrow window, and set 
therein a harp.' 

"'That may well be,' Lusignan replied, 'for 
it was Bertran de Born's custom to place his 
harp in the window when a storm was coming, 
and the wild notes which the wind struck from 
it inspired him to songs of battle. There is no 
certitude from that discovery that Isabelle or 
any other woman is in the castle. If she is 
there and has received the pigeons she will let 
fly one at once, but it will be long before my 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 303 

pages that watch the dove-cote at home can 
bring me the message which it bears.' 

" ' Methinks an arrow might bring the mes- 
senger down,' I suggested. 

" ' Nay,' said my master, ' they fly too high. 
We have not a bowman among the King's 
archers could hit such a mark.' 

" I thought a moment, and then threw my cap 
into the air. ' Nevertheless, what an arrow can- 
not do a hawk may.' 

" 'A merry thought, but where shall we find 
a falcon ? The knights of France go not to 
battle with hawk on fist. Ah, Papiol, thy de- 
vices are like a good chain with but one rotten 
link.' 

" ' That link shall be new welded,' I promised. 
' Get but that rabble of starvelings from under 
the castle walls, and ask the King to give thee 
that tower which was built by the river to de- 
fend the stockade. It is suited to more man- 
oeuvres than King Richard had in mind when 
he built it. From its platform one hath a 
straight view into that same window of the 
harp, at no great distance neither as the crow, 
or rather as the pigeon, flies. Place me as sent- 
inel on that tower, and I will find me a falcon 
and go a-hawking, and catch my pigeon before 
it has shot to any great height, for, trust me, 



304 Feudal Chateaux 

the harp I saw belongs not to Bertran de 
Born. There was a scarf of rose-coloured sar- 
cenet tied to it, which fluttered in the breeze, 
and that were too womanish a grawd even for a 
minstrel.' 

" My master lamented that he had not Rich- 
ard's famous falcon with which he had hawked 
at Jaffa on the Plain of Sharon, but I bade him 
not grieve for that or any other, for I had my 
own plan. Cold weather was coming, it was 
the time of the migration of birds, and I had 
noted each day that passage hawks flew over 
to the south. I trusted to snare a haggard 
that would answer our business as well as difau- 
con gentil. I could make the letirre\ the jesses, 
and the chaperon a cor^tette or hood, and I had 
learned the dressap-e or training- of hawks from 
a famous falconer. 

" The first time that my master visited me 
after giving me the River Tower yonder \ 
showed him with pride three falcons, hooded, 
jessed, and belled, and fastened to a block of 
wood by the thongs attached above the talons. 

" ' That great one,' I explained, ' is a Pere- 
grine and noble. She has escaped from some 
hunter and gone wild, for she has a silver 
varvel [ring] on her right arm [wing]. She 
flew to the leurre, too, and even allowed me to 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 305 

fasten on the hood without resistance. This 
is a common goshawk, and ignoble, for it pur- 
sues its prey in direct hne, while all noble fal- 
cons soar and strike the quarry from above. 
This is a Merlin, an eyess [nestling], which 
Ludovic found for me in a nest on the cliff. It 
will take longer to dress than the others, for its 
mother had been killed by those starvelings 
and the poor little screamer has hunger traces 
on its feathers. It is not strong enough to 
enter at a pigeon, but I am training it with 
sparrows, which I fasten to one line while I hold 
my eyess by another. It flew bravely this 
morning when I called it off, but it had not 
the strength to retrieve its quarry; I fear it 
will be of no service — but the others will serve 
our turn.' 

" * Let me see the varvel,' said Lusignan, 
holding out his wrist, upon which the Peregrine 
hopped confidently and allowed him to ex- 
amine the flat silver ring on her ankle. 

" My lord started. ' There is a crown en- 
graved on the varvel,' he exclaimed. ' If this 
is one of John's hawks I will not use it.' 

" She is the best of the three,' I grumbled, 
' and no Irish hawk. John's come from Carrick- 
fergus.' 

" ' Nay, Papiol, but for once thy lore is wrong, 



o 



06 Feudal Chateaux 



for this is no Peregrine. Dost see the name, 
*' Melek Rik " ? She is an Indian Shahin, 
and the very bird that Richard hunted with at 
Jaffa. She was given to him by Saladin, and 
Richard gave her in turn to Bertran de Born, 
who must have lost her in this vicinity. Do 
not enter her unless thou art sure she will re- 
turn, for I would not lose her for a chest of 
treasure.' 

" Lusignan was so much occupied in carrying 
out the commands of the King, as well as in 
establishinor Ludovic, the best archer amono- his 
crossbowmen, with me at the River Tower, 
that it was not until the wretched condition of 
the outcasts was brought to his personal no- 
tice, as they swarmed about his tower, that he 
bethought him to petition the King for them. 
Even then it was in his own interest that he 
did so. A heron had flown over the tower, 
and I loosed the goshawk, which raked off 
[flew in a straight line], fastening its claws on 
the heron's neck. The quarry was heavy, and 
bore down its captor in its fall, when some 
famished boys, who had watched the pursuit, 
dashed down from the cliffs, and seizing both 
birds devoured them ravenously, hardly wait- 
ing to strip off the feathers. Ludovic shouted 
to them to leave the hawk or the archers would 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 307 

fire upon them; but hunger had banished all 
fear, and they would rather have died with 
the hawk's flesh in their teeth than have lived 
to starve. 

" Lusignan would not allow Ludovic's threat 
to be carried out, and when he recounted the 
incident to the King the latter cried : ' In God's 
name let these poor people go where they will. 
I count them as mine own subjects since they 
are rejected by our enemies.' This clemency 
came too late for hundreds who had already 
died of starvation or gone mad upon the 
cliffs. 

" Philip had possession now of all the region 
below the castle, but the fortress could only be 
taken by attacking it from the higher land. 
The main army established itself on this ele- 
vated plateau and the investiture was complete. 
But to fortify his camp with a palisade, to build 
towers, and mount the huge engines necessary 
for an assault required time ; autumn grew to 
winter, and if the grand marshal Starvation was 
engaged on the French side to assist in the 
reduction of the castle, the stern general Win- 
ter, with all his legions of ice and snow and 
bitter wind, attacked our unprotected camps in 
the interest of the besieged, who were snugly 
housed. 



3o8 Feudal Chateaux 

" Now the siege proper began, Richard, fore- 
seeing that the assauh would take place from 
this quarter, had strongly fortified the triangular 
bastion, or outwork, which lay between the pla- 
teau and the fortress itself. This advanced 
fort was completely isolated on every side by 
a deep and wide moat. Its only connection 
with the castle was by a bridge, which, when- 
ever it became necessary to abandon the 
bastion, could be drawn up by a windlass, 
manipulated on the castle side, thus closing 
the doorway and leaving the bastion detached. 
The bastion was provided with towers con- 
nected by a chemin de roiide on the top of the 
courtines, or walls. Both the walls and the 
towers were topped with battlements forming 
breastworks for the defenders. On the central 
tower was mounted a mangonel, or engine for 
throwing to a distance huge stones, a great 
heap of which had been piled beside it. In 
the two side towers were catapults which com- 
manded the moat at the foot of the larger tower, 
and in the earlier part of the siege rendered 
efforts at mining unsuccessful. Along the 
ramparts of the wall skilful crossbowmen were 
stationed, who picked off the commanding offi- 
cers, and the men who worked the engines, as 
well as the pioneers whose business it was to 




BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF BAILLARD. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 309 

fill in the moatwith trunksof treesand earth, and 
to stampede the oxen which drew the carts laden 
with this material to the edge of the ditch. 

" The battering-ram could not bemade to play 
against the wall of the tower until the ditch was 
filled in, but so deadly a fire was kept up by the 
besieged that it seemed impossible to approach 
the moat and many men were killed in the 
attempt. At length a "cat," or long shed on 
rollers, whose roof of strong oaken beams was 
protected with green hides, was trundled for- 
ward, worked by men inside, until it reached 
the edge of the moat. Carts of rubbish were 
then backed throusfh this tunnel and their con- 
tents dumped into the moat. By this means 
the part directly in front of the main tower was 
filled, and the cat advanced so that it touched 
the wall. Then a bosson, or battering-ram on 
wheels, was rolled down an inclined track under 
cover of the cat, and by the combined efforts 
of twenty strong men worked backward and 
forward until the repeated blows of its iron 
beak began to drill a hole in the wall. The 
besieged were perfectly aware of what was go- 
ing on, and from the flanking towers barrels of 
Greek fire were thrown by the catapults on the 
roof of the cat. The raw hides, however, pre- 
vented the roof from catching fire. The wall 



3IO Feudal Chateaux 

was crackinof : it was evident that in another 
hour a breach would be effected. 

" Roger de Lacy had provided for the emerg- 
gency and had filled the lower story of the 
tower with several cartloads of earth, so that 
when, with infinite labour, the great wall was 
finally bored through, the pioneers encountered 
a solid mass of earth, and, although cracked, 
the upper walls did not settle. 

" Though their enthusiasm was somewhat 
lessened, this device merely retarded their 
efforts. The bosson was withdrawn and the 
soldiers worked with pickaxe and shovel to 
clear the interior of the tower of the earth. 
This was the work of an entire day, and while 
it was groins on the Kins: caused two trebu- 
chets^ to be set up out of range of the cata- 
pults on the tower, which hurled huge trunks 
of trees and great stones clear over the walls 
into the courtyard of the fort. But this did 
no mischief whatever, for the court was quite 
empty, all of the garrison having mounted to 
the towers and walls. At length the engineer 
of one of the trebuchets got the range of the 
platform of the main tower, and discharged 

' Machines acting by means of a great weight fastened to the 
short arm of a lever which, being let fall, raised the long arm with 
great velocity and hurled stones with much force. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 3 1 1 

such an immense fragment of stone upon it 
that it not only killed the worker of the man- 
gonel, but broke the engine itself into a thou- 
sand fragments. As the trebuchet continued 
with the same deadly aim to pile stones upon 
the platform the tower had to be abandoned, 
though the two catapults continued their fire 
and prevented any advance of archers to the 
edge of the moat. 

" At length the pioneers working within the 
lower story of the tower cleared it of earth, 
only to find that the ladder-opening through 
which they expected to mount into the next 
story had been covered with boards and by 
a heap of stones. Wood and tar was brought 
and the lower room was nearly filled and set on 
fire, the besiegers retiring through the cat to a 
safe vantage-ground to await the result. As 
no one dared enter the tower from the roof 
on account of our trebuchets it soon became 
a blazing caldron ; but the walls fell in, so far 
smothering the flames as to make it possible 
for the defenders of the walls on each side to 
keep the fire from spreading. 

" A breach was now made, but while our 
men waited for the burning- ruins to cool 
before entering over them, the English 
constructed a barricade behind which they 



312 Feudal Chateaux 

mounted trebuchets and mangonels, while the 
two catapults on the side towers were also 
pointed toward the breach. The first on- 
slaught was repulsed, but the watchers on the 
towers seeing that we were preparing to ad- 
varfce in greater numbers and better order, and 
that the French would undoubtedly gain pos- 
session of the court, and then, if it were not de- 
stroyed, of the bridge to the second fortress, 
the order was given to retire from the outpost 
into the bailey, pulling up the drawbridge 
after the last man had crossed. The retreat 
was accomplished in good order, the besieged 
carrying their munitions of war with them. 
In February we took possession of the bas- 
tion, only to find that the English had filled 
in the well and had left the place stripped of 
everything which could be of any service to 
us. 

" It was the first step to be taken, however, 
and King Philip and all his army were greatly 
cheered to think that we were driving them in. 
The fortress was still of commodious size, as 
you see, and had been put into the best possi- 
ble condition for a siege, for Richard had 
munitioned it admirably (see Note A). Blocks 
of stone were quarried out of the cliff and 
piled up in the bailey, and smaller heaps were 




GROUND PLAN OF THE CHATEAU GAILLARD. 



A HIGH ANGLE TOWER. 

B. B. SMALLER SIDE TOWERS. 

C. C. D. D. CORNER TOWERS. 

E. OUTER ENCEINTE OR LOWER COURT. 

F. THE WELL. 

G. H. BUILDINGS IN THE LOWER COURT. 
I. THE MOAT. 

K. ENTRANCE GATE. 

L. THE COUNTERSCARP. 

M. THE KEEP. 



N. THE ENCAMPMENT. 

0. POSTERN TOWER. 

P. POSTERN GATE. 

R. R. PARAPET WALLS. 

S. GATE FOR ENCAMPMENT. 

T. T. FLANKING TOWERS. 

V. RIVER TOWER OCCUPIED BY LUSIGNAN. 

X. CONNECTING WALL. 

Y. THE STOCKADE IN THE RIVER. 

Z. Z. THE GREAT DITCHES. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 3 1 3 

placed beside every mangonel and catapult on 
the roofs of the towers. 

" There was a good stock of fuel stored in 
the caverns which were formed by quarrying 
the stone, sufficient to serve the castle all 
winter, and an abundance of water was pro- 
vided by the three wells, which were supposed 
to be one thousand feet deep, though, as the 
castle was only three hundred feet above the 
level of the river, this estimate is probably 
exaggerated. 

" Ludovic, the archer who was associated 
with me at the River Tower, had a friend 
named Bogis, a fearless man of an inquiring 
mind. He was very much interested in the 
quarries under the castle. A deserter told 
him that the only entrance to them was from the 
castle bailey ; but Bogis was not so sure, and 
was constantly prowling about the outside of 
the cliff in the hope of finding a concealed door. 
At one point he said he could hear the pick- 
axes of the men within, and he marked this 
place as a good spot for mining. Unfortun- 
ately it was in an exposed position and under 
the range of one of the towers, and the com- 
mander of the miners would not attempt oper- 
ations there. So Bogis continued to prowl. 

" The besieged were in good spirits at this 



SH Feudal Chateaux 

time, the deserter told us. They were only 
1 80 men, but they could all be depended upon, 
and as only sixty were kept on guard except 
when we attacked they had two-thirds of the 
time to rest. Provisions were plenty and there 
were frequent banquets, at which Bertran de 
Born's battle-songs were sung so lustily that 
the armour rattled on the walls of the great 
hall. 

" Do you know those chansons de guerre of 
Richard's friend ? Here is one," — and Papiol 
sang with spirit : 

" ' I love to see all scattered around. 

Pavilions, tents, on the martial ground, 

And my spirit finds it good 
To see on the level plains beyond 
Gay knights and steeds caparisoned. 
It pleases me when the lancers bold 

Set men and armies flying ; 
And it pleases me, too, to hear around 
The voice of the soldiers crying ; 
And joy is mine 
When the castles strong, besieged, shake. 
And walls, uprooted, totter and crack ; 

And I see the foemen join 
On the moated shore all compassed round 
With the palisade and the guarded mound. 

* I tell you that nothing my soul can cheer, 
Or banqueting, or reposing. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 315 

Like the onset cry of " Charge them ! " rung 
From each side, as in battle closing, 
Where the horses neigh. 
And the call to " Aid ! " is echoing loud ; 
And there on the earth the lowly and proud 

In the fosse together lie ; 
And yonder is piled the mangled heap 
Of the brave that scaled the trenches steep.' " 

" That was better stuff to give men stomach 
for fighting than the waihng of Gaucelm 
Faidit. 

" Until actively employed in combating, the 
men were kept at work making arrows and prac- 
tising manoeuvres and running along the cheinin 
de ronde to the succour of different towers, ac- 
cording as De Lacey's signal horn rang out 
from his station in the highest outlook. In one 
of the towers opening from the bailey, Richard 
had established a singular man whom he called 
a Spanish physician, and who had been sent to 
him by his friend Sancho of Navarre. He 
had been in Toledo and had learned some- 
thing of the arts of the Moor, and it was even 
whispered among the soldiers that he was a 
Moorish alchemist, for he had fitted up the 
lower story of his tower as a laboratory, and 
strange fires were seen to glow within it, 
whose smoke emitted most unchristian odours. 
He worked harder than ever now, and De 



3i6 Feudal Chateaux 

Lacey was delighted when he was informed 
that he was busy constructing Greek fire, 
which he had seen used in Palestine. 

" The deserter assured us that the King and 
Queen were not within the castle, but my 
master would not wholly credit his word. It 
was an old trick, he said, for a beleaguered 
garrison to send out a pretended deserter to 
report things differently from what they were. 
There were two women — this I had dis- 
covered — in the Governor's house adjoining 
the donjon keep ; but these, the man said, 
were the wife of De Lacey and the Countess 
of Salisbury, the affianced of William Long- 
sword, who had been sent to England on some 
errand before the siege, and had been de- 
tained there by King John's orders. 

" So the sieee went on. It had lasted eisfht 
months when Bogis entered our tower nearly 
wild with excitement. It happened that my 
master was with us, warming himself at the fire 
of driftwood which had been washed ashore 
from the broken stockade and which we had 
utilised to make a cheerful blaze, but he was 
not in a merry humour, for not a pigeon had 
been sent from the castle and he feared that 
they had been broiled and eaten. But when 
Bogis plunged in, stuttering and sputtering, 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 317 

for his mouth was full of too big a matter for 
him to spit it forth at once, and we under- 
stood at last that he had discovered a small 
window opening into the moat from the under- 
ground caverns, my master's face lightened. 
The fosse was dry, and Bogis desired only to 
be let down into it with a few other compan- 
ions, when, climbing on each other's shoulders, 
they would enter that window and spy out the 
land. My lord bettered that notion with the 
counsel that once within they should get them 
as soon as possible to the bailey drawbridge, 
which they should let fall, so that he and his 
troop, who would be waiting in the bastion, 
could rush in and surprise the garrison. Lu- 
dovic volunteered at once to go with Bogis, 
and he chose him three other daring fellows 
for the business, — Eustaches, Manasses, and 
Ori. I longed to go also, but my master said 
gruffly that I had not prospered so well with 
my chicken hawks as to be trusted with so 
weighty a matter. 

" These others, at the peril of their lives, en- 
tered upon the adventure, and discovered when 
they had entered the window that they were 
not in the cellar stables, but in a little crypt 
set round with tombs. Mounting by a nar- 
row stair they found themselves within the 



3i8 Feudal Chateaux 

chapel, where a fair lady was saying her 
prayers. She fled with a shriek at the ap- 
pearance of Bogis, who came up sword in 
hand. He followed her to the door, where he 
waited for the arrival of his companions before 
venturing out into the bailey, in which were a 
number of soldiers. At the lady's outcry 
some of these backed a cart of tar barrels, 
which they set on fire, against the chapel door. 
Boo^is and his men seeingf themselves so im- 
prisoned, made such a racket hewing at the 
door with their battle-axes that the soldiers 
in the bailey believed that a large body of 
soldiers were swarming up from the crypt, 
and fled for their lives into the castle's inner 
court. 

" The bailey was left empty, but Lusignan 
and his men waiting in front of the entrance 
which connected it with the bastion could not 
immediately enter, for Bogis and his compan- 
ions, shut up within the chapel, could not rush 
through the flames of the tar barrels, which had 
aided them in demolishing the door, but now 
stifled them with their smoke. Abandoning 
the door, which they had lost time in hewing, 
they broke the windows with their battle-axes, 
and at length climbed out and let down the 
drawbridge. Lusignan's men marched in in 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 319 

good order and, wheeling slightly to the right, 
pressed to the entrance of the castle. But the 
defenders had had time to man the many- 
towered walls, to recover from their surprise, 
and to grasp the situation. Richard's ingenuity 
was now demonstrated. A movable bridge 
hicrh in air connected the castle with one of the 
towers of the outer walls, so that though 
the bailey was in the possession of the French, 
the six great towers with their connecting 
courtines which hemmed it in were still in the 
hands of the besieged, and from these they 
kept up from all sides a galling fire on the in- 
vaders. The French saw that unless this 
chemin de ronde (see Note B) was secured the 
bailey was only for them an arena of death. 
Evidently the next feat to be performed was 
to disconnect the outer walls from the main 
fortress by destroying the bridge, to reach 
which it was necessary for us to thread a nar- 
row lane between the walls of the outer and 
inner enclosure, and close to the great donjon, 
from whose battlements molten lead was con- 
tinually raining. Lusignan would not allow 
his men to venture unprotected into such a 
trap, and a beffroi, covered on all sides with 
green rawhides and manipulated from within 
by a few resolute men, was trundled along be- 



320 Feudal Chateaux 

tween the walls, from whose tops projectiles of 
all kinds were poured upon it, with showers of 
Greek fire. In spite of its protection the roof 
of the beffroi caught, and the flames streamed 
upward. Nothing daunted, the soldiers within 
continued to roll it forward, until they had 
placed it directly under the bridge. Then they 
deserted the burning tower and made a dash 
for safety. In vain : they were all shot down 
before reaching- their ranks. But the burnings 
engine remained, and the bridge was ignited 
by the very flames which the besieged had 
kindled. A few crossed to the castle while it 
was burning, but the greater part of the de- 
fenders, scattered along the long line of battle- 
ments, did not understand their situation until 
the charred planks fell and they saw them- 
selves cut off from the stronghold. These de- 
serted the courtines and collected in the 
Magian's Tower, but as they were deprived of 
provisions and water they soon saw that there 
was no hope in their situation, and surrend- 
ered. Our forces now took possession of the 
bailey with its surrounding walls and towers, 
its chapel and outbuildings, and the great un- 
derground caverns, and we now entered upon 
the third stage of the siege, the reduction of 
the real stronghold, in which the English were 



•' 0?/^ 




ATTACK BY THE DRAWBRIDGE FROM THE BEFFROi. 



Thus described by Froissart-. f 

" Two belfries of great timber with III. stages, every belfry on four great wheels 
and the sides were covered with cure boly [cuir boztilli, rawhide], to defend them 
from fire." 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 321 

now straitly shut up. It had been a long 
and weary business and we had not much to 
boast. The leaves upon the trees were green 
when we gaily spread our pavilions around 
Gaillard. We had seen them turn sere and 
fall, and the wind had whistled snow and ice 
through the leafless branches. Our men had 
died by hundreds. Various distempers in- 
duced by the cold played havoc among our 
soldiery, who shivered in their comfortless 
tents and saw with envy the great fires glar- 
ing behind the thick castle walls and heard in 
their misery songs of revelry each night. We 
learned afterward that only twenty of the Eng- 
lish died during the siege and that up to the 
last they had hopes of holding out until spring 
should make it possible for John to lead an 
army to their relief. We also began to dread 
this. The roads were an ell deep in mud, but 
they would soon become settled, the weather 
was much milder, and it was evident that we 
must hasten to complete our work before we 
were ourselves hemmed in. This was borne 
in upon Lusignan's mind more emphatically 
by an accident which happened at this time. 

" Ludovic, after his exploit with Bogis, had 
returned to the River Tower. He was a great 
hearty fellow and I liked him well, and we 



32 2 Feudal Chateaux- 

took turns in watching for pigeons. One day 
I heard him shout, and rushing to the plat- 
form saw that two pigeons had been sent off 
at the same instant. Ludovic had loosed both 
the falcons. This which I hold in my fist, the 
great falcon of King Richard, soared, struck, 
and retrieved its prey, bringing the quarry 
back to the tower and dropping it at my feet. 
The little eyess struck bravely, but the pigeon 
was too heavy and it let fall the wounded bird 
below the castle wall and returned without it 
to the block. 

" There was a letter under the wing of the 
pigeon which the great falcon had brought 
back which my master read with eagerness. 
It was written in a lady's hand, cramped to get 
all possible matter in the least possible space, 
on the very lightest parchment, and read as 
follows : 

' Beloved : 

' Pardon my slowness of understanding. I have 
but just comprehended why these pigeons were sent, 
and that thou art somewhere near, watching over my 
safety. I might have known this of thy fealty, but I 
have been very wretched, thinking myself deserted, and 
wondering what would happen to me when the castle 
surrenders, for render it must unless we are relieved. 
But now I trust to thee to care for me when that terrible 
moment comes. I will hide in the strong-tower, but will 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 323 

flutter my pink scarf from the casement and thou wilt 
secure my safeguard.' 

" The letter had neither address nor signa- 
ture, but Lusignan was certain that it was 
meant for him, and was written by Isabelle. 
He at once displayed his banner with the 
crescent from the top of the tower, and was 
wild to possess the other pigeon which had 
fallen on the cliff. This falcon would not stoop 
for dead quarry, so it was of no use to send 
him forth. There were no starving people on 
the cliff now to snatch the game and it lay in 
full sight. My lord was about to issue out to 
secure it, but Ludovic had already started. 
He climbed the cliff bravely, secured the bird, 
and started back, waving his hand to us gaily 
as we cheered him on. But there had been 
other watchers of that exploit, and an arrow 
whistling from the bow of Maitre Yvon, the 
commander of the English arbalisters, struck 
Ludovic between the shoulders. He gave a 
great leap into the air, and fell not far from 
the foot of our tower. Lusignan rushed out 
and bore him in, and he died in his arms, mut- 
tering, ' To be shot in the back like a 
coward ! ' 

" My master was sure that this was John's 
work, and that he had suffered his Queen to 



324 Feudal Chateaux 

write this letter to make him show himself, 
until he read the letter under the wing of the 
second pigeon, which lay dead within the 
breast of the dead man. 

"This letter was from Roger de Lacey to 
King John, urging him to take the field for 
the relief of his beleaguered subjects, ' For,' 
said the Constable of Chester, ' no matter 
how strong a fortress may be, it must render 
at last unless help come from without' 

" This letter gave Lusignan matter for 
thought, for it proved that they within the 
castle thought that the pigeons had been sent 
them from Rouen as a means of communica- 
tion with their friends in that city. Since this 
was so, the lady who wrote the love-letter was 
not the Queen, and the letter was not intended 
for Lusignan but for some English knight. 

"This irked my master sore, but he carried 
the intercepted letters to the King, who saw 
well that now was the time to strike the final 
blow. 

" The fortress which it was now our busi- 
ness to take was the strongest that had ever 
been seen in France. It was surrounded not 
by ordinary walls, but by an enceinte consist- 
ing of nineteen half-circular towers whose 
walls were three yards thick and had no win- 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 325 

dow or opening of any kind from the moat at 
their foot to the battlements thirty feet above. 
The great donjon-keep on one side was eight 
yards in diameter within, and its walls were 
four and a half yards thick. Its roof was flat, 
to accommodate the engines, whose projectiles 
were kept in the upper story, while its machi- 
colated battlements were of stone instead of 
the inflammable wooden hoarding hitherto 
used. Even should the French take the court- 
yard, De Lacey boasted that the donjon was 
impregnable. His boasting was vain, for here 
Richard had made his one fatal mistake. On 
the 6th of March, 1204, our miners, operating 
from the shelter of the underground caverns, 
caused one of the semicircular towers to fall 
in. The debris filled the moat and formed a 
causeway on which the besiegers swarmed 
through the breach and into the court. De 
Lacey sounded the signal for a retreat from 
the walls to the donjon-keep, but when the 
defenders descended from their posts on the 
battlements, they found the court filled with 
the French, artd had to fight their way across 
to the donjon door. By an excess of caution 
on the part of Richard, this door had been cut 
high up in the donjon wall and was approached 
by a narrow staircase, with an enfilading meur- 



326 Feudal Chateaux 

triere where it turned sharply. A most excel- 
lent device to prevent an attacking force from 
entering, since it could only be mounted single 
file, but unfortunately presenting the same 
difficulties to the refugees who now sought 
entrance. Roger de Lacey and his i6o men 
were able to cut their way only to the foot of 
the staircase, where they surrendered to the 
tremendous odds by which they were hemmed 
in.^ 

" The prisoners were marched to Paris 
and later many of them were exchanged and 
reached England in safety. The women and 
the caretakers of the wounded had already 
taken refuge in the donjon before the last dis- 
aster, and De Lacey in his surrender de- 
manded their safeguard, which was solemnly 
promised. But when Lusignan, at the com- 
mand of the King, took possession of the 
citadel he found within no woman, priest, or 
physician, only the wounded lying on the 
floor, but so well cared for that it was evident 
their nurses had only recently left. De Lacey 
was as much astonished as th^ captors, and 

' Richard's inventions were improved upon and his mistake cor- 
rected by the castle-builders who followed him. The plan of the 
donjon of Etampes is a quatrefoil, giving better flanking than a 
cylindrical tower, and the donjon of the Louvre had its door on the 
ground floor, to give easy ingress to its garrison when sore beset. 



\ 




KEEP OF THE CHATEAU GAILLARD. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 327 

feared they might have precipitated them- 
selves from the top of the tower, but no traces' 
of them could be found in the trench below. 

*' Leaving Lusignan with a small body of 
men to garrison the castle, King Philip swept 
on through Normandy. After the fall of 
Chateau Gaillard the remainder of his cam- 
paign was but a triumphal march. Falaise, 
the fortress next in strength, resisted only 
a week. Guy de Thonars took Mont St. 
Michel, and Normandy and Brittany were 
French. Maine, Anjou, Touraine, and the 
greater part of Aquitaine sent in their sub- 
mission, and ' from the lordship of a vast 
empire that stretched from the Tyne to the 
Pyrenees, John saw himself reduced at a blow 
to the realm of England.' 

" He had fled overseas before his faithful 
soldiers shut up in Chateau Gaillard had given 
up hoping for his appearance, and Lusignan. 
learned to his intense disappointment that he 
had taken the Queen with him, and that she 
had not been within the castle during the 
siege. He was not long left in uncertainty 
as to the identity of the lady who sent the 
message which the falcon had captured, for 
the day after he was left in charge of the dis- 
mantled fortress an English knight bearing a 



328 Feudal Chateaux 

flag of truce appeared before the gate. It was 
Longsword, who, released from detention in 
England, had braved all dangers to find his 
bride. 

" He was distracted by her disappearance, 
and took little comfort from my master's opin- 
ion that she must have escaped from the castle 
by some secret way. None such was known 
to Longsword, and he was in the depths of de- 
spair. Lusignan pledged him his word as a 
knight to put forth every possible effort to 
And and restore the missing ladies, and in 
token of this promise took from the wall of 
the trophy hall and gave to Longsword a 
ofauntlet which had belonaed to Richard. It 
"was a part of the treasure of Chains and had 
•been restored to my lord by Philip as his 
right. Though unsuspected by its owner it 
may have possessed some magic power, for as 
Longsword drew it on while walking deject- 
.edly across the castle court something very re- 
markable happened. 

*' My master had been correct in his sus- 
picions. Within the thick wall of the donjon 
there was a secret staircase leading by an 
underground passage to a ruined mill on 
the river bank. At the mill were hidden a 
boat and provisions. It was a forlorn hope. 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 329 

the last resort in case every other means of 
escape failed. Only Richard and the Moor- 
ish physician knew of this secret way, for 
the workmen who constructed It had been 
changed so frequently that none of them knew 
the relation of the different parts or the design 
of the whole. When the two women, the phy- 
sician, and the priest, who were tending the 
wounded in the donjon, saw the fall of the 
great wall, the rout of their defenders, and 
the French swarming into the castle court, they 
understood perfectly that all was lost. And 
when the physician touched a hidden spring 
and a tall dresser moved into the room, disclos- 
ing the staircase, they followed him without 
question, only to find that the shock of the 
falling wall had shaken down a vast quantity 
of earth and choked the subterranean passage. 
" Remounting the staircase they discovered 
to their dismay that the door had closed firmly 
behind them, and that their united efforts 
were powerless to open it. The staircase was 
lighted by a narrow loophole, and looking out 
upon the court they could see that the French 
were in full possession. They determined that 
for the present they would make no outcry. 
The priest had caught up a basket of bread 
and a jug of water as he closed In the retreat. 



330 Feudal Chateaux 

They had an abundance of fresh air and they 
decided for the present to remain quietly in 
their hiding-place. 

" They watched the departure of the main 
body of the French, and began to wonder 
whether the castle was to be abandoned. ' It 
would be a pretty fancy,' said the priest, ' if 
they should decide to burn it and us with it, 
like rats in the walls.' 

" The suggestion was so terrible, as well as 
the fear of being left to starve to death, that 
they called aloud with all their force, but with 
out attracting any attention. Two nights of 
discomfort and anxiety, two days of fear, and 
now their provisions had given out, and their 
voices were hoarse and weak. An ominous 
stillness reigned around, when suddenly (as 
the young Countess of Salisbury told us after- 
ward) an unreasoning impulse made her fly to 
the narrow window and recognise her dear 
lord, just mounting his horse. She cried 
aloud, but though he paused irresolutely and 
looked around, he fancied the faint cry of 
' William, beloved ! ' was but an echo of his 
imagination. Through the narrow slit she 
thrust her arm and fluttered a rose-coloured 
scarf. He did not see it, but there were sharper 
eyes in the head of this good falcon chained to 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 33^ 

the block. He shook his bells and beat the air 
with his strong wings. I had just brought 
Longsword's horse, and I unfastened the 
thong, wondering what quarry the royal bird 
recognised. Lonesword drew rein and watched 
the bird mechanically. It mounted, stooped, 
and tangled its claws in the scarf, then flew 
with it to me at my call. But Longsword was 
off his horse, and had snatched his lady's favour 
before I had time to release the falcon. One 
end of the torn scarf still waved from the win- 
dow. I brought a scaling-ladder, and the 
knight mounted to the opening, learned who 
was imprisoned within the walls, and how to 
release them. 

" My master treated them most courteously, 
and allowed the ladies to go away with Long- 
sword, furnishing them with an escort to the 
coast. The priest, too, was given his freedom, 
but the physician was retained, for he pos- 
sessed the knowledge of many useful secrets, 
among others the manufacture of Greek fire. 
This man was not particular whom he served, 
and Lusignan re-established him in the Magi- 
an's Tower, which Richard had fitted up for him, 
where he continued the exercise of his black 
art. He had a great fascination for me, and I 
used often to repair thither to watch him at 



33^ Feudal Chateaux 

his work, though at times I was all but choked 
by the unchristian odours which issued from 
his laboratory. He had a precious elixir, which 
he kept hidden in a phial of rock crystal ; but 
one day I entered and surprised him as he had 
poured some of it into a glass. When his back 
was turned for a moment my falcon flew from 
my wrist and drank from the glass. I made a 
loud outcry : ' He is poisoned ! my beautiful 
bird will die ! ' The alchemist turned pale. 
' He will not die,' he gasped ; ' he will never 
die. It was the Elixir of Life ! ' He drove 
me from his laboratory, and would never suffer 
me to enter it again, for he feared that I would 
rob him of his precious elixir. There was no 
need : while fondling my pet, which I believed 
poisoned, a single drop from his beak had 
touched my lips, and I, too, can never die." 

" I understand now your great age," I said ; 
" but tell me more of the armour which you say 
may have had something to do in bringing 
Longsword and his betrothed together. What 
made you suspect that it had any agency in 
the matter ? " 

" This same Moorish physician. He pointed 
to the rest of the armour in the great hall when 
he was brought before my master after his cap- 
ture, and promised, if his life was spared, to tell 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 333 

him a great secret. This was that the jewels 
with which it was studded had the power of 
bringing together faithful lovers. 

*' My master did not believe him, but long 
years thereafter, while arranging his armoury at 
Le Croizant, he came upon the jewelled armour 
which had been sent from Castle Gaillard. He 
put it on out of mere idleness and that night 
he heard that the widowed Queen of King 
John had returned to her native city of An- 
gouleme. Lusignan's hair was white but his 
youthful ardour was not cooled, and Isabelle, 
whose life as a Queen had been one of wretch- 
edness, in her thirty-fifth year fulfilled the 
promise which she had made in her fifteenth 
and, marrying her faithful lover, proved that 
the tenderest love of all is an old love revived. 

" I remained with them as long as they 
lived, and often my lady would have me in 
her bower to tell the story of this falcon. Le 
Croizant is a ruin now. No one goes there, 
and so I have come to Gaillard and made my- 
self and the bird a nest in the River Tower, 
and there we live over the siege in telling its 
story to appreciative people like Monsieur and 
Madame. 

" Thank you. Monsieur, for the coin. No, I 
could not sell my bird. You might be kind to 



334 Feudal Chateaux 

him, but you see you will die some day, while 
I can care for him for ever." 

He went away down the hill to the River 
Tower — and we saw him no more. Several 
years later, when visiting Les Andelys again, 
we inquired for the young man who had read 
and studied so much about the past that he be- 
lieved he had lived in it. 

" But yes," our innkeeper replied, " the 
Scattered One. He is a sad warning, Madame, 
to those who read romances. He fancied that 
he and his bird could never die. Figure to 
yourself the imbecility ! Ah well, what would 
you ! A hunter took the falcon for a wild 
hawk and shot it, and that foolish Papiol shut 
himself in his tower and died of erief. The 
room was full of books. We burned them all 
that they might do no more mischief." 

NOTE A 

Though Richard called Gaillard his " daughter of 
one year," he had gone on strengthening it and furnish- 
ing it until his death, and the pay-rolls of " Echiquier 
Normand" for 1198 and 1199, preserved in the Tower 
of London, give us some idea of its strength and re- 
sources. 

Some of the items are : 

For five thousand arrow-heads, ^ 10 

" wheat and wine 227 



The Siege of Chateau Gaillard 335 

For ten thousand herrings ^ 14 

" Sawal, son of Henri, and his associates, 
Robert and Matthew, master masons dur- 
ing two years 1,700 

" carpenters 3,35° 

" wood-cutters 2,320 

inferior workmen 9, 730 

guardians and porters 543 

" smiths 250 

arrow-makers 200 

diggers of moats 178 

digging three wells 300 

asses 4,040 

mill in the castle 149 

The total expenditure by Richard is estimated at 
^178,000, an enormous sum for those days. 

The accounts give the names, not only of the master 
masons, of whom Sawal seems to have been the director, 
and, under Richard, engineer and architect, but also 
of many of the employees who were members of the per- 
manent garrison. Maitre Yvon, a Norman, was head 
of the arbalisters ; Girard de Flandre and his brother 
Arnouet, armourers, were employed from the fete of St. 
Jean to that of St. Cecile, making 152 days at 42 
sous per day. Alain Wastehouse commanded 106 
" sergents," or Norman tenants of Richard's lands in the 
neighbourhood, who owed homage or honourable serv- 
ice under arms to the King's person and were con- 
sidered of higher rank than regular soldiers, only repair- 
ing to the castle when it was in danger. 

The garrison was divided into three relays, each serv- 
ing one-third of the time, so that the walls were manned 
night and day. 



33^ Feudal Chateaux 

" All of these knights were sheathed in steel * 

With belted sword and spur on heel ; 
They quitted not their harness bright, 
Neither by day nor yet by night : - 

They lay down to rest 

With corselet laced, 
Pillowed on buckler cold and hard ; 

They carved at the meal 

With gloves of steel. 
And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred." 

NOTE B 

The chetnin de ronde was the walk along the battle- 
ments of the outer walls ; its sentries commanded not 
only the exterior of the walls, but the court within. 
Scott's description of this straggling patrol-walk is inter- 
esting in this connection : 

" The turret held a narrow stair. 
Which, mounted, gave you access where 
A parapet's embattled row 
Did seaward round the castle go ; 
Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, 
Sometimes in narrow circuit bending, 
Sometimes in platform broad extending. 
Its varying circle did combine 
Bulwark and bartizan and line, 
And bastion, tower, and vantage coign." 




CHAPTER VIII 

THE WAR OF THE THREE JOANS 

Aux Ruines de Mo7ttfort V Ji,mciury 

Je vous aime, 6 debris ! et surtout quand I'automne 
Prolonge en vos echos sa plainte monotone. /li 

Sous vos abris croulants je voudrais habiter,'::;^^-*- 
Vieille tours, que le temps vers I'autre incline, 
Et qui semble de loin, sur la haute colline, 
Deux noirs geants prets a lutter. 

Lorsque d'un pas reveur foulant les grandes herbes, 

Je monte jusqu'a vbus, restes fprts et superbes ! 

Je contemple longtemps vos creneaux meutriers, 
Et la tour octogone et ses briques rougies, 
Et mon oeil, a travers vos breches elargies, 

Voit jouer des enfants, ou mouraient des guerriers. 

Ecoutez de vos murs ceux qui leur chute amuse ! 

Laissez le'seul p'oete y conduire sa muse, 

Lui qui donne du moins une larme au vieux fort ; 
Et, si I'air froid des nuits sous vos arceaux murmure, 
Croit qu'une ombre a froisse la gigantesque armure 

De I'Amaury, comte de Montfort. — Victor Hugo. 
2^ 337 



S3^ Feudal Chateaux 

The legends of Provence wakened within us 
longings to penetrate farther Into that charmed 
land of the troubadours ; to follow the after- 
history of Raymond and Joan at Toulouse ; 
to watch the Crusaders departing from Algues- 
Mortes, or to listen to the very earliest tradi- 
tions of how Almeri of Narbonne defended 
his city from the Moors. More fascinating 
still was the possibility of finding traces in 
the crypts beneath the palace of the popes 
at Avignon of that subterranean, or rather 
subfluvlan, passage which, dipping beneath the 
river Durance, Is said to connect the palace 
"with Chateau Renard on the opposite shore. 

Mistral makes Nerto fly through this awe- 
some tunnel, nearly fainting with fear, and 
stunned by the noise with which the river 
bowls great stones along its rock-lined alley 
overhead. We sympathised with Mr. Janvier 
when he says : " Modern engineers have had 
the effrontery to assert that the passage Is 
Impossible, but I am the last person In the 
world who would set an idle engineering 
fiction In array against an established poetic 
fact. I do not doubt for a moment that the 
passage exists." 

We would like to have lived at Avignon 
at its period of greatest splendour, when the 




OLD TOWER AT MONTFORT L'AMAURY. 



The War of the Three Joans 339 

popes reigned in their great castle, and the 

people 

" daiisaient, dansaienf, 
Sur le p07it d' Avtgnofi," 

that famous bridge which the Hospitallers, 
the great military engineers of the time, 
built, with many another with hospice and 
chapel, to make the Roman roads practicable 
for travellers. 

How thrilling a sight it would have been 
to watch a tournament in the lists between 
the double walls of Carcassonne, or, more 
fearful spectacle, the siege of those walls 
by old Simon de Montfort, and his death be- 
fore Toulouse. But Provence with all its 
witchery Vv^as to be reserved for another sea- 
son, and we turned northward, wandering 
among the chateaux of the Loire, until we 
found ourselves drawn again to Brittany, to 
trace in another group of castles the very 
sa^e family of de Montfort from which 
sprahg:. Simon, the scourge of Provence and 
the persecutor of the troubadours, who had 
developed the questionable tenets of the 
Albigenses. 

As we sped from Paris on our way to 
Chateau La Joyeuse at the very beginning of 
our pilgrimage, we passed the ruins of the 



340 Feudal Chateaux 

birthplace of the family. On the site of this 
their most ancient ancestral castle, Montfort 
I'Amaury, there existed in the time of the 
Gauls a village with an oppidum, to which the 
Romans gave the name of Mons fortis, and 
this was the origin of the name of the power- 
ful dukes of Brittany. Several daughters of 
the house became queens. France claims with 
greatest pride the twice-crowned Anne de 
Bretagne, successively wife of Charles VIII. 
and Louis XII. Other queens of this family 
have brought the country only disaster and 
bloodshed. Of one of these, Bertrarde, wife of 
Philip I., we have already found souvenirs at 
Angers, where, as Duchess of Anjou, she lived 
with her first husband, Foulque Rechin. Her 
niece, Luciane de Montfort, married Louis 
VI,, and the war into which these two de 
Montfort queens plunged France was only less 
bloody than that which the intrepid Joan, or 
Jeanne, la Flamme carried on for twenty-five 
years to preserve the dukedom of Brittany 
for her son. 

We found traces of the de Montforts aofain 
and again in our wanderings, always with the 
same family traits, — courage, ambition, obstin- 
acy, and frequently unscrupulousness. They 
repeated not only the same characteristics but 



The War of the Three Joans 341 

the same names, so that it is often puzzHng 
to differentiate the Amaurys, Simons, and 
Jeans. 

Their original home is in ruins, but all 
through Brittany they built, conquered, or 
gained by matrimonial alliance other castles, 
and the blazing torch of Jeanne la Flamme 
scarred many another during the quarter of a 
century during which it flickered like a will-o'- 
the-wisp, or, gaining force, swept all before it 
in a tornado of fire. 

Ploermel, in the heart of Brittany, was to be 
the next centre from which our legend-grasping 
fingers would radiate like the tentacles of an 
octopus. We had promised Anatole, as we 
jaunted through Finistere, that after we had 
been to Touraine we would surely come to 
Ploermel, and this promise was made on the 
assurance that it was the town of all Brittany 
ichest in old traditions. 

41 its neighbourhood the old chansons de 
^^^•^^"^aced Merlin's castle of the Forest of 
Broecilande, and in later times Ploermel was 
the very vortex of that War of the Three Joans 
which in the Middle Ages drew every Breton 
into its maelstrom, and shook every castle in 
Brittany. 

Our first excursion from Ploermel was the 



342 Feudal Chateaux 

reg'ulation one to Chdteaii Josselin, the home 
of the De CHssons. 

The older portion of this beautiful chateau 
formed a part of the feudal stronghold in 
which centred more than one stirring- episode 
of the war. Before launching into this period 
I was eager to learn whether there were any 
local traditions of Viviane's enchanted castle, 
and as we drove toward Josselin I strove to 
lead Anatole's memory backward to any 
legends which he might have heard of the 
very earliest times. 

"Anatole," I said, "you know all the forests 
in the vicinity of Plocrmel?" 

** None better, Madame. I ^d^s gardc-ckasse 
for the late Duke." 

" So I have heard." 

" And Monsieur le Due was very fond of 
hunting and leased the right to chase the 
boar on the estates of his neiofhbours. I have 
ridden over every acre for miles around." 

"Then you can doubtless tell me the exact 
whereabouts of the Forest of Broecilande ?" 

Anatole shook his head doubtfully. "It can- 
not be a wood of any great extent," he replied. 
" I have never heard it mentioned." 

" On the contrary it is an immense tract of 
country here in the heart of Brittany. It is 




JOSSELIN— EXTERIOR VIEW. 



The War of the Three Joans 343 

celebrated in literature, and very wonderful 
things happened there, which I have read of 
even in English books." 

""'Ah, fa / it exists then, probably, only in 
the imaginations of your English writers. They 
are great liars ; it is scandalous what things 
they will write about France without ever 
having been here. If Madame saw it in a 
book it has doubtless no other existence." 

*' But, Anatole, I have just been reading about 
it in a French book. The forest belonged to 
the Comte de Laval, and here is a detailed de- 
scription of it made out for its proprietor." 

" The Comte de Laval? That is more reason- 
able. He had a surveyor from Paris go over 
the boundaries, for there was a dispute between 
him and the Due de Rohan about some of the 
farests. It was all settled bylaw. If it is in the 
title-deeds of the Comte de Laval it is all rieht. 
was a hard man, but a just. My father 
knew nim." 

" Not this Comte de Laval, Anatole, for the 
paper of which I speak is dated August 30, 
1467.'; 

''Fichtre! That was a long while ago." 

" Not so far back as the events which hap- 
pened in this forest in which I am interested. 
I would not care a button for the locality but 



344 Feudal Chateaux 

that somewhere within its Hmits there is an 
enchanted castle in which MerHn was shut up 
in the sixth century." 

"Does the Comte de Laval say so?" 

" Yes. The description which was made out 
for him expressly states that this castle is to be 
sought for between Ploermel and Montfort." 

""C'est curieux ; that might be anywhere 
about here. What else does the paper say 
about the forest ? " 

"A great deal. Listen : 

* The said forest contains four chateaux and maisons 
fortes. 

' Item : in the said forest are two hundred dif- 
ferent woods, each having a different name, and as 
many fountains. 

' Item : a wood named Au Seigneur, in which no ve- 
nomous beast or insect can live.' 

" That is true, Madame ; there is such a wood, 
though no man can ever find it. But the 
beasts know it well, and in the summer when ' 
the cattle are afflicted with swarms of madden- 
ing flies, they all set out for this wood, frantic 
and bellowing with pain, with their tails in the 
air, and they come back calmly at night, de- 
livered from that pest, their bells chiming a 
psalm of thanksgiving. That is no fiction — it 
is gospel truth. A holy hermit lived there 




The War of the Three Joans 345 

long ago, who loved the beasts, at least the 
eood ones, and would not have them tormented. 
It might be a good scheme to follow the next 
afflicted animals we see, and so, perhaps, come 
to the place Madame seeks." 

" True, but the description does not state 
precisely that the enchanted castle was in this 
holy wood, which was only one of two hundred 
divisions of the forest. Many of the two 
hundred fountains seem to have been endowed 
with magical qualities. One is described that 
always boiled whenever the Sieur de Montfort 
came near it. No matter at what hour of the 
day or night or however dry the season, if the 
Sieur stood upon its margin the fountain bub- 
bled up until its waves touched his feet, when 
it would sink again with a sobbing sound ; and 
this it would do for no one else." 

"That must have been because the nymph 
he fountain was in love with the Sieur de 
Montfort. Poor little fairy ; if he could have 
found the right spell, she might have become 
human for a part of the time at least, but those 
Montforts were all cruel, not gentil like the De 
Clissons." 

" Then what I have read you of the Forest of 
Broecilande does not seem impossible?" 

" But no, Madame, especially if it was a long 



346 Feudal Chateaux 

while ago ; and I should like to know more 
about the enchanted castle," 

" You have heard doubtless of King Arthur 
and his knights of the Table Round ? " 

Anatole nodded. ''Mais certainement ', in 
history at the school when I was a boy, my 
schoolmaster was always telling us about him 
and the good St. Louis. Was he King of 
France before Fran9ois Premier or afterwards, 
Madame?" 

" Arthur was King of Great Britain, not of 
France, though the early Breton chronicles 
have much to say of him, and of his enchanter. 
Merlin. Indeed, all that the English know of 
Merlin was copied from old Breton manu- 
scripts. Merlin was the son of a nun and of a 
devil, but all wickedness was driven out of him 
at baptism by a holy hermit, to whom he 
swore to do nothing contrary to the will of 
Jesus Christ. He was a powerful magician 
and performed many wonderful feats for King 
Arthur until he was imprisoned somewhere 
hereabouts in the Forest of Broecilande by 
his wife Viviane. Have you never heard of 
their names?" 

" Yes, Madame, but certainly ; still my mother 
is better versed in those matters than I, and 
as she is coming to Ploermel to visit us shortly 



The War of the Three Joans 347 

she will doubtless be able to answer all Ma- 
dame's inquiries." 

So Zephyre was coming to Ploermel, and 
after all I might be granted a second oppor- 
tunity for unravelling the entire mystery of 
the La Joyeuse grotesque face with its magical 
lodestone eyes. I was therefore all the more 
content to remain in the picturesque old town, 
absorbing the histories of the Montforts, the 
Lavals, and Du Guesclin as developed in the 
War of the Three Joans. 

No conflict carried on entirely within and in 
the interests of a province in all " the eternal 
welter of little wars " is more dramatic than this 
war. It was really an electoral contest, more 
sanguinary but not more bitter than the wordy 
war we carry on in the United States when we 
electa governor of New York. In April, 1341, 
the Duke of Brittany died in Caen childless, 
and the succession to the duchy was in dispute. 
As there was no direct heir it reverted to the 
Duke's next brother. But this next brother, 
Guy, Count of Penthievre, had died before 
him, and had left no sons — only a daughter, 
Joan (or Jeanne), married to Charles of Blois, 
nephew of Philip VI., King of France. The 
third brother, John, Count of Montfort, dis- 
puted his niece's claim under the Salic law, but 



348 Feudal Chateaux 

Joan insisted that while it ruled succession to 
the throne of France, it had no bearing on the 
governance of Brittany, and she appealed to 
her husband's uncle, the King of France. 
Philip at once championed her cause ; while 
the Count of Montfort, who had seized the 
principal cities of Brittany, secured the support 
of the King of England. 

It was a strange complication for the two 
kings who set forward their candidates to 
this gubernatorial election. Philip, who pro- 
claimed himself in favor of woman's rights in 
Brittany, held his own throne by virtue of the 
Salic law, while Edward III. was defending 
succession in the male line only in a province 
of the very country in which he was fighting 
for his own pretensions to the crown through 
maternal descent. The situation was anom- 
alous in another particular. The two countries 
were at truce, and while their armies renewed 
the fight in Brittany, France and England 
were declared not to be at war. 

The conflict speedily resolved itself into a 
Ladies' War, for in the first campaign the 
Count of Montfort was carried prisoner to 
Paris and shut up in the Louvre. His wife, 
who was also named Joan, donned armour and 
rode from town to town at the head of the 



The War of the Three Joans 349 

English auxiliaries, and with her youthful son 
continued the war with great spirit. Besieged 
in the port of Hennebon she made a brilliant 
sortie and set fire to the tents and baggage- 
train of the French ; and this conflagration did 
so much damage that it won for her the name 
of "Jeanne la Flamme." 

Charles of Blois was made prisoner and shut 
up in the Tower of London. But Joan of Blois 
was of the same temper as Joan of Montfort. 
During the next year the Count of Montfort 
died, but the two Joans still fought doughtily. 
When Charles of Blois obtained his liberty, 
weary of the struggle, he signed a treaty giving 
up half of Brittany to the young son of the 
Count and Countess of Montfort ; but his wife, 
Jeanne de Penthievre, insisted that the province 
belonged to her and that he had no right to give 
what he did not own. " I married you," she 
said, "to defend my inheritance, not to yield 
the half of it," and the treaty was broken. 

While these two Joans were heading the arm- 
ies of France and England so obstinately, an- 
other Joan, the wife of Oliver I. of Clisson, threw 
herself into the conflict. Clisson was supposed 
to be the vassal of France, but Philip believed 
that he was intriguing with England, and had 
him arrested at a tournament in Paris and sum- 



350 Feudal Chateaux 

marily beheaded. Before this was generally 
known Joan de Clisson, in her revenge, rode with 
her husband's troops to a castle of the Count de 
Blois, was admitted without suspicion, and had 
the entire garrison, but one, put to the sword. 
She then fled to the Countess of Montfort and 
placed her revenge and the rights of her son, 
a boy of seven, in her service and protection. 
Joan of Clisson was a most valuable reinforce- 
ment. She was as intrepid and more cruel than 
the other Joans, and it was at his mother's side, 
fighting against France, that her little son 
learned the first lessons in warfare which after- 
wards were turned to such orood account in de- 
fence of his country, and made Oliver II. of 
Clisson later one of the most famous constables 
of France. 

The Battle of the Thirty was an episode of 
this war. The three Joans each possessed dif- 
ferent castles scattered throughout Brittany, so 
that the scene of battle was not confined to any 
one locality. The de Penthievres, the de Mont- 
forts, and the De Clissons were related and 
connected by marriage with nearly all the noble 
houses of Brittany, so that great complication 
of interests resulted, and it was very difficult 
for many of the seigneurs to decide to which 
party they belonged. 



The War of the Three Joans 351 

Just about the time that Joan of CHsson of- 
fered her services to the Countess of Montfort, 
Joan of Blois received an important reinforce- 
ment in the devotion to her cause of a young 
knight destined to make for himself a name as 
one of the greatest warriors of Christendom, 
Bertrand Du GuescHn. He was born near 
Rennes, at the castle of Motte Broon, and 
two of his ancestors were comrades of God- 
frey de Bouillon in the First Crusade. He is 
spoken of as "the ugliest child from Rennes to 
Dinan, swarthy, thickset, broad-shouldered, big- 
headed, a bad fellow, always striking or being 
struck, whom his tutor abandoned without hav- 
ing been able to teach to read." 

I happened to quote this statement to Ana- 
tole as we drove from Ploermel to Chateau 
Josselin. 

" Pardon, Madame," he objected ; " it must 
have been in an English book that Madame 
found such a slander as that. If I may be 
permitted to speak, I will tell the whole truth 
of that matter — and who should know it better, 
seeing it was in this neighbourhood that the 
great Du Guesclin was born, and came to his 
first fame ? It is true that they do say that he 
did not take to his books, but I do not blame 
him for that, for I have found them a bit diffi- 



352 Feudal Chateaux 

cult myself. Besides, that was not to be his 
profession, and in all matters pertaining to war 
there was not a more learned or more skilful 
man than he. His father taught him to ride, and 
the exercises of all kinds of arms, — the sword, 
the lance, the axe, and he taught himself to 
wrestle with the boys of the neighbourhood 
and the men of the castle, and to box, not with 
gloves as now, but heavily, as was the manner 
of those days ; and he was prodigious strong 
and active withal, and could run, jump, swim, 
and climb trees. 

" But all this personal prowess was as noth- 
ing compared with his influence over the other 
boys. He had his father read him the tactics 
of those days, and he would assemble the 
boys in the barnyard, and for ever he would 
be drilling them. Their favourite exploit was 
to take castles, and pretending to do this 
they were continually climbing ladders up into 
the haymows, and escalading the great dove- 
cote tower to tear the pigeons from their nests. 
Every day some of the boys were carried home 
with broken arms or heads, but as Madame 
has a son, she knows that is the nature of boys, 
and that it is a miracle how any of them live 
to grow up. Bertrand was the most agile of 
them all. He could mount straight up a 



The War of the Three Joans 353 

ladder which two of the other boys would hold, 
and balance himself at the top like an acrobat 
after they had let go the rails. 

" When he was sixteen or seventeen years 
old he longed for something more than mere 
play. There was to be a great tournament 
at Rennes in honour of the wedding of the 
same Jeanne de Penthievre that you have 
been telling about, to Charles of Blois, and 
all the noblesse of Brittany would be there. 
Bertrand's father had his armour furbished 
up, for he intended to take part, and Ber- 
trand begged to go too, but his father would 
not suffer it and left him locked in his cham- 
ber. Scarcely had the old knight ridden 
away before Bertrand was out of his win- 
dow, clambering down the wall with the help 
of the ivy. But at the stables a disappoint- 
ment awaited him, for, as the entire fam- 
ily from his mother down wished to see the 
tournament, every horse had been taken and 
the stalls were empty. Only a donkey was 
braying in the paddock. Houp la I and there 
was Bertrand on the donkey, galloping away 
at a great rate to Rennes." 

But what befell Bertrand at the tournament 
and afterward is a long story which shall be 
told later. 




CHAPTER IX 

THE STORY OF CHATEAU JOSSELIN AND 
TIPHAINE LA FEE 

FOR we are coming now, Madame," said 
Anatole, "to the famous battlefield of 
the Thirty. There is the monument ; Madame 
can read the inscription. That was between 
the French and the English a long time ago. 
The English were in Ploermel, but how they 
got there I am sure I do not know. They 
were commanded by Bembro, and the French 
had their headquarters at the chateau of Jos- 
selin ; and they met half-way on this very spot, 
thirty on each side, and every man killed his 
man, and when the battle was over there was 
not a soul left alive ! " 

" Oh, Anatole !" I protested ; " are you sure 
that it was quite so sanguinary as that ? " 

354^ 



Chateau Josselin. 



Chateau Josselin 355 

" Quite sure, Madame. They are all buried 
under that stone. It was removed during my 
father's time and the skulls counted, — sixty 
skulls, and not one without a hole in it." 

" One can't dispute the authority of an eye- 
witness, but I have brought along Froissart's 
account of the battle. He was of the period, 
and had the story from a man who took part 
in it ; so if you will carry the lunch hamper to 
that shady spot, after we have discussed the 
cold chicken we will discuss the battle." 

" Madame is very learned," said Anatole, 
taking up the Froissart and looking at it sus- 
piciously. " I have remarked that English 
ladies usually take their libraries with them 
when they travel ; but generally smaller books 
than this, and bound in red, always in red, — it 
is so I can always identify a dame Anglaise." 

" But I am not English, Anatole ; I am 
American." 

"In that case," said Anatole, " I would be 
grateful if Madame would read me what her 
book says." 

And luncheon being served, I read to Ana- 
tole Froissart's quaint account of the Battle 
of the Thirty : 

"In 1351, it happened on a day that Sir Robert de 
Beaumanoir, a vaHant knight and commandant of the 



35^ Feudal Chateaux 

castle which is called Castle Josselin, came before the 
town and castle of Ploermel, whereof the captain Brande- 
bourg [your Bembro, Anatole, and perhaps the Earl of 
Pembroke] had with him a plenty of soldiers of the 
Countess of Montfort. * Brandebourg,' said Robert, 
* have ye within there never a man-at-arms, or two or 
three, who would fain cross swords with other three for 
love of their ladies ? ' Brandebourg answered that their 
ladies would not have them lose their lives in so miser- 
able an affair as single combat, whereby one gained the 
name of fool rather than of honourable renown. ' I 
will tell you what we will do if it please you. You shall 
take twenty or thirty of your comrades, and I will take as 
many of ours. We will go out into a goodly field where 
none can hinder or vex us, and there will we do so 
much that men shall speak thereof in time to come in 
hall, and palace, and highway, and other places of the 
world.' ' By my faith,' said Beaumanoir, ' 't is bravely 
said, and I agree ; be ye thirty, and we will be thirty 
too.' 

"When the day had come they parleyed together all 
the sixty, then they fell back until one made the sign, and 
forthwith they set on and fought stoutly all in a heap, 
and they aided one another handsomely when they saw 
their comrades in evil case. Pretty soon, after they had 
come together, one of the French was slain, but the rest 
did not slacken fight one whit, and they bore themselves 
as valiantly all as if they had been Rolands and Olivers. 
At last they were forced to stop and they rested by com- 
mon accord, giving themselves truce until they should be 
rested. They rebuckled their armour which had got un- 
done, and dressed their wounds. Four French and two 
English were dead already. They rested long, and there 
were some who drank wine which was brought them." 



Chateau Josselin 357 

"Those were the EngHsh, Madame," cried 
Anatole. "The Bretons had brought no wine 
with them, and their captain cried out that he 
was dying of thirst, and one of his comrades 
shouted, ' Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir,' and 
that has been the war-cry of the Beaumanoirs 
ever since. I have often wondered whether 
he advised that in good earnest to allay his 
friend's thirst, or whether he was scoffing at 
him for crying like a baby for drink ; and I have 
wondered, too, whether such a draught would 
have been refreshing, but it has always hap- 
pened that when I have cut my finger and 
might have discovered, I had not the least 
thirst or desire to try the beverage." 

" We have got beyond cannibalism, Anatole," - 
I replied ; " let us hope that we may some day 
get beyond fighting. The chronicle goes on 
to say : 

' When they were refreshed the battle recommenced 
as stoutly as before and lasted a long while. They had 
short swords of Bordeaux, tough and sharp, and boar 
spears and daggers, and some had axes, and therewith 
they dealt one another marvellously great dings. At last 
the English had the worst of it ; Brandebourg, their cap- 
tain, was slain, with eight of his comrades, and the rest 
yielded themselves prisoners when they saw that they 
could no longer defend themselves, for they could not 
and must not fly. Sir Robert de Beaumanoir and his 



358 Feudal Chateaux 

comrades who remained alive took them and carried them 
off to Castle Josselin as their prisoners ; and then admit- 
ted them to ransom courteously when they were all cured, 
for there was none that was not grievously wounded, 
French as well as English. I saw afterwards, sitting at 
the table of King Charles of France, a Breton knight 
who had been in it, Sir Yvon Charuel, and he had a face 
so carved and cut that he showed full well how good a 
fight had been fought. The matter was talked of in 
many places, and some set it down as a very poor, and 
others as a very swaggering business.' " 

" Madame," said Anatole, after a pause, " my 
father must have been mistaken in his count 
of those skulls. He was never very good at 
arithmetic. It is just possible that one or two 
of the Bretons escaped, but not one of the 
English, no not one. 

" If Madame has amused herself sufficiently 
with these worthless tales, I will continue the 
perfectly attested history of Bertrand du Gues- 
clin. Madame will remember that we left him 
outside the tournament at Rennes. He tied 
the ass outside the lists and pressed in with the 
vulvar where he mig-ht, and saw the first two 
courses run with great delight. He shouted 
with the rest at each gallant stroke, and was in 
despair that he could not also be among those 
magnificent knights, so richly harnessed, with 
their arms emblazoned on silken surcoats 



Chateau Josselin 359 

which they wore outside their armour. At the 
end of the second course he saw that one of 
the knights, the Vicomte de la BelHere, was so 
greatly fatigued that he retired from the lists. 
Bertrand followed to his hotel and begged that 
he would lend him his horse and his armour. 
He might not have been so obliging but that 
his daughter Tiphaine, called Tiphaine la Fee 
(the fairy), because she was so petite and knew 
the language of animals and birds and could 
make every one work her will, — was disarming 
her father. Tiphaine took a fancy to the youth. 
'' ' Lend him your arms, dear father,' she 
begged, ' I am sure he will not dishonour them.' 
And with that she gave him her favour, a 
scarf embroidered with birds, and ran back to 
the tournament, and seated herself beside the 
duchess to see what would become of it. The 
challengers were of the noblest knights of 
Brittany, of whom the Sire Penhouet, governor 
of the city, was the first. Bertrand rode for- 
ward with his lance raised, Penhouet accepted 
the challenge, and the two champions met 
with so ofreat a shock that Penhouet was un- 
horsed, and had such a thump on the back of 
his head that he had no stomach for further 
fighting that day. Then the second of the 
challengers presented himself to avenge the 



360 Feudal Chateaux 

Governor of Rennes, but Bertrand recognising 
his father by his crest and coat of arms, lowered 
his lance, made him a profound bow, and de- 
clined the combat. All the assembly were 
surprised at this, but concluded that the fame 
of the old knight, Du Guesclin, was such that 
the stranger dared not engage with him, and 
they put forward a puny knight, OHvier de 
Mauny, who became afterward the inseparable 
companion of Bertrand, though, in this the be- 
ginning of their acquaintance, Bertrand handled 
him most ungently. It was tlie same story 
with Guillaume de Launoy, Yves de Charuel, 
afterward one of the Thirty, the Sieurs de Ker- 
gorlay and de Kaergouet, and others of the 
noblest seigneurs of Brittany, to the number 
of fifteen. 

" At last, Guy, Comte de Laval, took him in 
hand, and every one pitied Bertrand. At the 
first shock de Laval knocked Bertrand's spear 
from his hand, and a great cry went up from 
the lists. But Bertrand threw away his shield, 
and with both arms caught De Laval in such 
an embrace as never lover held his mistress, 
and lifting- him from the saddle fluno- him clean 
over the lists among the ladies. 

" Fichtre, but it was fine ! and you can judge 
of the admiration of the ladies, when they saw 



Chateau Josselin 361 

all their bravest knights thrashed so hand- 
somely. The Duchess, seeing that Bertrand 
wore the favour of Tiphaine, asked her who 
he might be, but Tiphaine was not fairy enough 
to tell, for she did not know. At last Charles 
of Blois, feeling that enough of his men had 
been banged about, threw his gilded baton 
into the lists to end the combat, and sent 
Robert de Beaumanoir, Marshal of Brittany, to 
bring this unknown knight to him, and to bid 
him discover himself. Figure to yourself the 
delight of the old Du Guesclin when he saw 
that it was his ne'er-do-well son who had that 
day made a name for himself. The Duchess 
gave him the prize of the tournament, which 
was a great diamond, and this you may guess 
he presented on bended knee to the demoiselle 
Tiphaine, asking only that he might be per- 
mitted to continue to wear her favour." 

" Anatole," I said, " you are a sly rogue ; you 
have pretended to know nothing of the history 
of the War of the Three Joans, and by this 
account of the tournament you have shown 
yourself better posted than I am in the history 
of Brittany." 

'' Not in history, Madame ; that is only for 
the learned, but in such little trifles as the ac- 
curate details of all the battles of this part of 



J 



62 Feudal Chateaux 



Brittany, of which you read so much nonsense 
in the books, — on these points you may trust 
me imphcitly." 

I was a listener after Anatole's own heart, 
and when I besouo-ht him — "Tell me more of 
Du Guesclin, of his exploits after the war 
broke out and he devoted himself to the cause 
of Joan of Blois" — he at once launched forth 
on a voyage of reminiscence and imagination. 

" Ah ! Madame, every castle in Brittany has 
its own story of him, for either he held it, or 
took it at some time with his boon companions. 
Chief amongf these in love for Bertrand and in 
rank was Guy de Laval, who, though he had 
married the sister of De Montfort, yet forgot 
family ties and took up arms against him, for 
the sole reason that he might fight by the side 
of Bertrand Du Guesclin. 

" Bertrand's chiefest enemy was Sir Thomas 
de Kantorbrie, an Englishman of high rank, 
who aided the Countess of Montfort in the 
siege of Dinan. Madame must have heard of 
him, and how he traitorously took Du Gues- 
clin's young brother Oliver prisoner, when he 
was exercising his horse outside the city during 
a truce. Bembro was commanding the English, 
and Du Guesclin went out and complained to 
him. It was arranged that Du Guesclin and 



Chateau Josselin 363 

Kantorbrie should fight for the possession of 
the person of Ohver, at single combat in the 
sight of both armies, in the public place of 
Dinan, the English being let in simply to see 
this fine feat of arms, and swearing to go out 
again in an orderly manner when it was over, — 
an oath which they kept very honourably." 

" Du Guesclin won the battle, I presume?" 

''Mais cei'-tainement, that goes without say- 
ing ; and when he had pulled Kantorbrie off his 
horse, on to the ground, and torn his helmet 
from his head, he beat him in the face with his 
mailed hand until he had spoiled his beauty, 
and he besought permission to cut off his 
head ; but this, unfortunately, Bembro would 
not grant." 

" That gentle feat of arms would hardly be 
thought quite honourable in these days," I 
commented. 

" True, Madame," Anatole admitted ; " and 
the demoiselle Tiphaine, who was one of the 
spectators, thought it a trifle too serious, and 
she told Bertrand afterward that to beat a man 
in the face when he was down was use to which 
a knight's gauntlet was not meant to be put ; 
and she gave him back his diamond, and asked 
for her favour. So there was Bertrand all 
shamed in the midst of his victory. But he 



364 Feudal Chateaux 

took his punishment Hke a man, and pulled off 
his steel orauntlet on the instant and handed it 
to her with the diamond in it, as a token that 
he would fight in a gentler fashion thereafter. 
"And after that he took many castles by 
escalade and sometimes by stratagem. Ma- 
dame has never heard of the sie^e of Rennes ? 
Surely that was the most laughable trick of 
all. The garrison of the city were nearly fam- 
ished when that villain, Kantorbrie, thought he 
could induce them to surrender, in the hope of 
good food. So he foraged all the country 
hereabouts, and collected all the pigs, herds 
upon herds of them. Now, the pigs of Brit- 
tany cannot be beaten, and those of Ploermel 
are best of all. Kantorbrie drove those pigs 
round and round the town of Rennes, in full 
sight of its starving population. He grew so 
daringf that he brouorht them close to the glacis 
of the fortifications. You may judge if the 
poor people felt their mouths water and their 
bellies fail them as they thought of the delect- 
able pork-pies, the juicy hams, the links of 
sausage, the souse and the head-cheese, and 
pigs' feet a la vinaigi^ette, and other delicious 
charctiterie, which those tantalising porkers 
would make. The Governor, Penhouet, was 
wild with despair. 



Chateau Josselin 365 

" * Leave this to me,' said Du Guesdin, who 
was also shut up in the town, ' Leave this to 
me, and by the same token we shall dine so 
toothsomely that every Jew within the gates 
will turn Christian to be our convives' Now, 
Bertrand was as ignorant as Madame is at this 
present moment of how he was to come out of 
this adventure but Tiphaine had returned to 
Rennes, and had just told him to speak thus 
to the Governor. I have said that she was 
called Tiphaine la Fee, and from what now 
transpired the belief was spread that she not 
only understood but could speak the language 
of all animals. However this may be, she was 
at least fond of all the creatures of the good 
God, and could imitate the sounds that they 
make to a nicety. 

" She went with Bertrand to a postern-gate 
which gave upon the moat. This she caused 
to be half opened, and when the herd of swine 
arrived opposite it she made the cry of a suck- 
ing pig when it is very hungry or in distress. 
And when the porkers heard this squealing, 
every mother's and father's heart among them 
was stirred, and they fancied that they recog- 
nised the voice of their own offspring, and in 
spite of the efforts of the distracted swineherds 
they plunged into the moat, swam across, and 



366 Feudal Chateaux 

dashed through the postern into the city. 
Tiphaine would have been trodden under foot 
of them but that Bertrand caught her up, set 
her on his shoulder and marched to the city 
square, — she still squealing gleefully, and thou- 
sands of pigs following in procession, so that 
the city streets could hardly hold them, and the 
city was well provisioned. 

" After that Tiphaine could no longer with- 
stand the importunities of Bertrand, ' for,' said 
he, ' you will not, sweetheart, treat me with 
more despite than I were a hog, since you suf- 
fer them to follow you ? ' 

" Now, there was another reason why 
Tiphaine took pity upon him, and this was 
because since the scolding she had given him 
at Dinan, he had made war so courteously 
that when he appeared before a castle in 
which was the Countess of Montfort, and had 
ordered the fortress to be bombarded with 
great stones, the countess appeared upon the 
battlements, and each time that a stone hit 
them wiped the place with her handkerchief, 
crying in scorn, ' You are most impolite, Ber- 
trand, thus to scatter dust on my parapets.' 
When Tiphaine knew that he had followed 
out her instructions to the point of being so 
made light of, she acknowledged that he well 



Chateau Josselin 367 

deserved her, and some of Kantorbrie's porkers 
furnished forth their weddingf feast." 

It was some time before the EngHsh name 
which had suggested Anatole's distortion, Kan- 
torbrie, dawned upon my mind. " The name 
sounds as if it might be Cymric," I said, much 
puzzled ; " are you sure that Kantorbrie was 
not a Breton ?" 

" Ah, no ! Madame, he was an EngHshman 
and of noble family ; his brother was an arch- 
bishop." 

" I have it ! " I cried, " you mean Sir Thomas 
of Canterbury." 

^^Parfazle^nent,'" said Anatole, calmly. " That 
is what I have said all along. Sir Thomase 
de Kantorbrie." 

We jogged into the little bourg of Josselin, 
in the early afternoon, and caught our first 
glimpse of the beautiful sixteenth -century 
chateau which the De Rohans reared on the 
old foundations of Sir Oliver de Clisson, from 
the bridge, which is the proper standpoint from 
which to see its ornate dormers and glistening 
towers reflected in the little river Oust. The 
dormers on the side of the court are still more 
beautiful, carved with most exuberant fancy, 
the intricate foliage catching in its convolu- 
tions strange Gothic animals, and displaying at 



368 Feudal Chateaux 

intervals the heraldic devices of the De Clis- 
sons and De Rohans, with their aspiring motto 
" Au plus ! " The peaked roofs of the towers 
have for finials hr istl'mg o-zrozte^^es, or weather- 
cocks, resembling a sheaf of spears, bent and 
rusty, surrounding the oriflamme of France. 

Oliver de Clisson was only a boy, careering 
madly about the country with his mother and 
the Countess de Montfort, at the time that 
the spears of the Thirty were stacked in his 
chateau and it was used as a hospital for both 
Enorlish and French after the battle. 

After the war was over, his allegiance was 
accepted by the King of France, and he was 
confirmed as Seigneur of Josselin, which he 
made his home, occupying it from time to 
time during his adventurous career, and dying 
here full of honours and of years in 1409, hav- 
ing as faithfully served two kings of France, 
Charles V. and Charles VI., as he had enthusi- 
astically fought against their ancestor Philip 
and his nephew, Charles of Blois. His ceno- 
taph in white marble and that of his wife. Mar- 
guerite de Rohan, lie in the castle chapel. His 
wife's feet rest on a pet greyhound, his upon a 
lion, his great sword lies beside him, and the 
inscription tells us that here rest the ashes 
of the " Tres haut et tres puissant seigneur ^ 



Chateau Josselin 369 

Monseigneur Olivier de Clisson, jadis Conneta- 
ble de Finance. 

" Madame must not imagine," said Anatole, 
as we drove homeward, " that when the War 
of the Three Joans was ended, Du Guesdin 
retired to his httle chateau at Pont Orson, 
which had come to him as Tiphaine's dowry, 
and thereafter profited by her famiharity with 
animals to keep a dairy farm On the con- 
trary, this was but the beginning of his careen 

" After the war was over all the men-at-arms, 
English, French, and Bretons, who had taken 
part in it were out of business, and they turned 
into brigands, orpfanisinor themselves into com- 
panics and establishing themselves in castles, 
swooping down upon the highways and carry- 
ing travellers off to their nests and holding 
them for ransom. Not alone Brittany, but all 
France was overrun by these gentry. To pro- 
tect each other the chiefs of the different 
robber bands met together and organised the 
Grande Compagnie. Their chief on the part 
of'the Bretons was Le Begue de Villaines, and 
the captain of the English outlaws was Hue de 
Cauerlee. Madame has doubtless heard of 
him?" 

For the moment the name struck no re- 
sponsive chord in my memory. " But assur- 



3/0 Feudal Chateaux 

edly he was such a bad one that he must be 
among Madame 's acquaintances." Turning to 
my books enlightenment came, and I was able 
to identify Anatole's Hue de Cauerlee as 
Hugh de Calverly. 

" Parfaitement^'' assented Anatole ; " it is ex- 
actly as I said, but he was not so bad as Kan- 
torbrie, who also became a bandit, and were it 
not for the exploit of the damsel Guyonne de 
Laval, there would be nothing more to tell of 
the magical power of Tiphaine la Fee, or any 
more adventures on the part of the illustrious 
Du Guesclin." 

" So you have some more legends, Anatole ? 
Let me have them by all means." 

" Ah, Madame, they have nothing to do 
with the War of the Three Joans or with 
Chateau Josselin ; but if Madame should care 
to visit the Chateau de Laval and should take 
me as guide, I could show you the very dun- 
geon, and if it should happen to be a moonlight 
night that would be the time and place to tell 
how Bertrand delivered France of the Grand 
Company, and other truthful tales not found 
in the histories, but well worth hearing." 




CHAPTER X 



GUYONNE DE LAVAL 



AND THE FURTHER HISTORY OF BERTRAND AND 
TIPHAINE LA FEE 

ANATOLE appeared before us at break- 
fast one morning with the announcement : 
" Congratulate me, Madame ; I have dis- 
covered the Forest of Broecilande ! " 

"And the Enchanted Castle of Medin?" 
" Alas ! no, Madame, for either the enchant- 
ment, which Madame will remember rendered 
it invisible and impenetrable, still holds, or else 
it all happened so long ago that the castle ex- 
ists no longer. But the forest is still there. 
Madame said it was to be found in this neigh- 
bourhood and I have found it, only it is called, 
now, the Forest of Paimpont. It is much 

371 



Zl^ Feudal Chateaux 

changed, — it has been cut up and built upon, 
but the Thicket of Refuge for persecuted 
beasts — that is still there. It was by its magi- 
cal virtue in ridding poor animals of their tor- 
mentors that I discovered it. Surely, there 
was no animal worse tormented than Gre^oire 
Trudel's donkey, and Gregoire himself was 
the persecutor. The poor beast endured his 
thumps and kicks for years, but at length she 
said to herself, ' Tiens ! one would be as stupid 
as the holy martyrs to suffer this any longer. 
I will go in search of the Holy Wood,' and she 
ran away. 

" Gregoire went in search of her, though I 
warned him it would not be for his Qrood health. 
He found his donkey standing in a pool beside 
the ruins of a castle, in a little clearing of the 
forest. He tried to coax the intelligent creat- 
ure to come to him, but she was too wise. 
So he waded out to her and mounted on her 
back ; but as this pool was what was left of the 
enchanted fountain, and as Gregoire was full 
of old cider, the donkey threw up her heels 
and. was quickly rid of her pest, for he was 
drowned very neatly in the pool, and there we 
found his body. This happened only a few 
years ago, and it occurred to me last night that 
this must surely be the Forest of Broecilande. 



Chateau Laval. 



Guyonne de Laval 2>72) 

There are the ruins, too, of the old castle 
of Montfort from which Tiphaine la Fee was 
rescued by the fairy ducks." 

" How did that happen, Anatole ?" 
" Has Madame never heard ? And yet these 
English books of hers call themselves histories ! 
This adventure befell Tiphaine la Fee after 
the king had bestowed upon her husband the 
castles of the Comte de Montfort. Du Gues- 
clin had said that, for his part, he had no use 
for them, but his wife thought differently. She 
was not sure but that she would prefer one of 
them for a residence to their chateau at Pont 
Orson, and she had a woman's love for house- 
hunting. So she mounted her white palfrey 
and, slenderly attended, set out for this castle, 
for the De Montforts were in another part of 
the country, and she had no idea that it was 
occupied. But, as evil luck would have it, 
Kantorbrie had established himself here with 
his men-at-arms, as likely as not with the per- 
mission of De Montfort, for they were friends. 
" When Tiphaine approached the castle it 
appeared deserted, but when she had ridden 
across the drawbridge she heard the clang of 
the descending portcullis behind her, and saw 
the court full of the English, and knew that 
she was caught like a mouse in a trap. She 



374 Feudal Chateaux 

demanded to see the captain, and promised 
that if she were honourably treated her husband 
would pay a handsome ransom for her deliver- 
ance. But when Kantorbrie knew that the 
wife of his mortal enemy was in his power, the 
expression of demoniacal triumph upon his dis- 
figured countenance made it still more hideous. 

" ' Ah ! Dame,' he cried, ' I had not hoped 
you would do me the honour to return my visit 
so speedily. I shall be more hospitable than 
you were to me, and you shall bide longer in 
my castle than you suffered me to rest in your 
bower,' and he caused her to be imprisoned in 
a high turret jutting out over the lake. 

" The visit to which Kantorbrie referred was 
one which had brought much derision upon 
himself, for, hearing that Tiphaine had re- 
proved Bertrand for his savage treatment of 
himself at the affair of DInan, of which she 
was a witness, he flattered himself that he had 
her interest. He had pursued her with his 
attentions even after her marriage, to the point 
of appearing beneath her window at her cha- 
teau at Pont Orson, prepared with a litter 
borne by some of his soldiers to carry her away 
boil gr6 vial grd. But It so chanced that Ti- 
phaine lay awake that night, and hearing the 
slight noise they made in placing the ladder 



Guyonne de Laval 375 

aeainst the wall, she looked out of her window 
and saw the men holding- the foot of the lad- 
der and Kantorbrie mounting- toward her. 
There was no human being within call, for 
they had seduced the watchman with gold. 
Her first thought was to call upon the saints ; 
but when she saw her herd of pet Alderneys 
quietly grazing in the moonlight she lost no 
time on the saints, but began to call them, ' Co' 
bos ! Co' bos ! I have salt for you, salt for 
you,' and the whole herd came stampeding 
up to the foot of the tower. When the men 
heard the galloping hoofs they thought a troop 
of horse were charging, and took themselves 
off in a hurry, sattve qui petU, and the beasts 
lumbered up against the ladder, and over- 
turned it, dumping Kantorbrie on the ground 
at the foot of the tower. And there they 
stood guard around him, so that when later 
his men returned in answer to his crying they 
had no small trouble to come at him and to 
carry him away, all bruised and trampled, in 
the very litter in which he had hoped to kidnap 
Tiphaine. 

" You may be sure that the memory of this 
adventure did not serve to lessen Kantorbrie's 
satisfaction at having her safe in his hands 
at last. As Tiphaine now looked from the 



2,7^ Feudal Chateaux 

window of her prison in Chateau de Montfort 
(which was so liigh up that Kantorbrie had 
not thought it necessary to have it barred), she 
saw that the base of the tower was surrounded 
by the lake, and the lake by the forest, and it 
was inexpressibly lonely, for there was no liv- 
ing creature in sight except some wild ducks 
that had settled on the water. 

" To liorhten her loneliness she beg'an to 
talk to them in their language. The ducks 
were so overjoyed and set up such a loud 
quacking, ' Crac ! Crac ! Crac ! ' that the garri- 
son of the castle thought that the foundation 
of the tower on the water side was cracking, 
and they all rushed pelc-mSlc out of the castle 
and Kantorbrie with them. They were so 
frightened that they rode away with all their 
might without even thinking of their prisoners. 
But there was Tiphaine in almost as evil a 
case as at first, for she was firmly locked in a 
deserted castle, as were her servants, and they 
were all like to die of starvation. They would 
doubtless have done so had not Tiphaine 
invoked St. Nicholas, who walked upon the 
water, and calling the ducks to witness that 
she would build a church to him if she was 
saved, she jumped fearlessly from the window 
into the lake. The ducks, instead of being 



Guyonne de Laval zn 

frightened at her descent, grouped closely 
together so that they not only broke her fall 
as nicely as a feather bed, but she did not even 
wet her stockings, and this makes me think 
that she must have known the spell that Mer- 
lin taught Viviane, of walking dry-shod upon 
water. 

" She had seen, from her window, the hasty 
departure of Kantorbrie and his men, so she 
entered the castle, found the key to the dun- 
geon, liberated the servants, and hurried home. 

" After the country was pacified she kept 
her vow and erected a chapel to St. Nicholas. 
When it was dedicated the ducks all appeared, 
waddling up the aisle in procession, just as the 
monks were chanting the ' Adeste Fideles.' " 

" When Kantorbrie and his cutthroats rode 
away from Chateau de Montfort they pro- 
ceeded to that of Guy de Laval. It chanced 
that the knight was not at home, so Kan- 
torbrie easily overcame the garrison and made 
himself master of the place, 

" You must not think that after his first 
fright at the supposed cracking of the walls he 
did not intend to go back to look for Tiphaine, 
but he thought it wise first to establish himself 
in a strong castle, and he had hardly taken 
possession of the chateau of Laval before it 



ZJ"^ Feudal Chateaux 

was his fortune to trap Du GuescHn in much 
the same way that he secured Tiphaine la Fee. 
This time there were no friendly ducks swim- 
ming under the castle walls, and if they had 
been there they would never have survived if 
Bertrand had fallen upon them. Bertrand had 
great desire to meet Kantorbrie after he es- 
caped him at the battle of Auray, but if he 
could have had his way he would have planned 
their meeting in a different way. 

" After the war was over there were many 
men-at-arms, both Bretons and English, who 
were out of work and who turned bandits, 
going about pillaging on their own account ; 
and that they might do this the better they or- 
ganised themselves into the Grand Company. 
The king asked Bertrand's advice, and Bert- 
rand agreed to lead them all into Spain and set 
the rightful king of that country, who was 
banished, upon his throne again. The king 
replied, * Do what you will with them, so that 
you rid France of this pest,' and gave Bertrand 
much money to effect the business. Bertrand 
sent to the Chevalier Vert, who promised to 
rally the captains of the Grand Company at a 
given time at Chateau de Laval, and promised 
that Bertrand might meet them safely there. 
So away rode Bertrand, nothing doubting but 



Guyonne de Laval 379 

that his old friend Guy de Laval was master 
in his own chateau, and would receive him 
hospitably. 

" What was his surprise, on entering the 
court, after he had given up his horse and 
suffered himself to be disarmed, to be sur- 
rounded and held down by a multitude of 
armed men, and to be confronted by his arch- 
enemy, the villain Kantorbrie, who, though he 
belonged to the Grand Company, and Bert- 
rand showed him his safe-conduct from the 
Chevalier Vert, had him treacherously thrust 
into the lowest dungeon of the castle. So 
there was Bertrand at the mercy of his direst 
foe, with no hope of deliverance, for though 
the Grand Company would shortly assemble, 
he was in no position to treat with them. The 
dungeon was vile and wet, his teeth chattered 
with cold, rats ran impudently over him, and 
Kantorbrie gave him neither food nor water. 
He was sore battered, too, in the tussle which 
he had given the men-at-arms to overcome him. 

" Worst of all, he was tormented in mind, 
not so much as to his own future, but because 
Kantorbrie had told him, with such malicious 
glee that he could not believe the news false, 
that he held Tiphaine a prisoner in a tower of 
the Chateau de Montfort. 



380 Feudal Chateaux 

" I have said that the dungeon was wet, and 
Madame will see why it could not be otherwise, 
for its floor was below the level of the river, 
and the drain-pipe of the castle passing down 
through the dungeon into the river, the water 
had worked back, loosened the joints of the 
pipe, and covered the floor to the depth of a 
foot with noisome filth. It was well known, 
too, that a dragon, a great water snake, was 
accustomed to come up through the pipe and 
spend the night in the dungeon, and Kantor- 
brie hoped, that as Bertrand was unarmed the 
draoron would strangle him before morning^. 

" You can imagine Bertrand's distress ; and 
that might have been the end of the most illus- 
trious knight of Christendom, but for a little 
slip of a girl, Guyonne de Laval, niece of the 
rightful lord of the castle, Guy de Laval, and 
named Guyonne after her uncle. She was 
only twelve years of age, and so insignificant 
in appearance that Kantorbrie had not thought 
it worth while to shut her up, and the child 
wandered quite unnoticed about the castle. 
She was amusing herself fishing with a rod and 
line in the castle moat when she discovered 
Du Guesclin behind the grating of his dungeon 
window, and began a conversation with him. 
Learning that he was hungry and thirsty, she 



Guyonne de Laval 381 

fastened a small basket to the end of her fish- 
pole and provided him with bread and wine. 
Seeing that there was a small window higher 
up in the tower directly in a line with Du 
Guesclin's window, she mounted thither, and 
finding that it was an empty greniei'-, she 
let down with her fish-line a file, with 
which he could disembarrass himself of his 
fetters, and widen the grating of his window 
so that he could take in various commodities 
which were too heavy to pass across the moat. 
The window was too narrow to suffer Du 
Guesclin to escape even after the bars were 
removed, but the ingenuity of Guyonne ren- 
dered him safe and even comfortable. For 
she knew the habit of the dragon and told 
him what to expect, and she lowered him a 
battle-axe so that when the creature appeared 
Bertrand chopped its head off, leaving its 
body to stop up the pipe. Guyonne had also 
let down a bucket and a mop, with which he 
now baled the water out of his dungeon, and 
a brazier of coals, whereby he dried it, with a 
faggot of sticks to keep up the fire through 
the night and scare the rats away. She also 
sent him a box of ointment for his bruises, 
dry clothing, a hauberk and helmet, a haunch 
of venison for his supper, and a blanket for 



382 Feudal Chateaux 

his bed. As she let these down under cover 
of the darkness, she was not observed by the 
guards of Kantorbrie. 

"All that night Kantorbrie revolved in his 
mind what he would do with Du Guesclin if 
he found him alive in the morning. If he kept 
him until noon the next day he knew, by the 
safe-conduct that he had seen, that the Grand 
Company would arrive ; but in that case the 
captive knight would be no longer in his 
power, for he doubted not that the captains 
would admit him to ransom. Therefore Kan- 
torbrie resolved that he would murder Du 
Guesclin just before noon, when he fancied 
that he would find his strength so reduced by 
cold and fasting and a wakeful night spent in 
fighting the dragon, that it would be an easy 
matter to overcome him. He descended to 
the dungeon at daybreak to personally gloat 
over his victim, attended by his torturers with 
their instruments, intending to give Bertrand 
an unpleasant forenoon before giving him the 
coup de grace. 

" But when they threw open the dungeon 
door there stood Du Guesclin as strong and 
lively as ever, with his shackles off, and his 
back against the door which had swung in- 
ward, and, most unexpected and least to be 




FEEDING A PRISONER— FROM AN OLD PRINT. 



Guyonne de Laval 



0"0 



desired of all, brandishing a heavy axe as gayly 
as if it were a dandy's walking-stick. Figure 
to yourself the disgust of Kantorbrie ! He 
sent in his guards first to attack Du Guesclin, 
but the cell was so small that only two could 
enter at a time, and the knight hewed them 
down easily, and leaping over their bodies he 
made for Kantorbrie, who retreated along the 
passageway, calling, 'Ausecoursf But Bert- 
rand caught up with him at the entrance of 
the great hall, and after a fierce combat killed 
him in the presence of his men, just as the 
warden rushed in to say that an army was 
approaching. 'These are my friends whom 
I expected,' said Du Guesclin ; ' choose ye 
whether ye surrender to them or to me.' 

" Then the garrison fell upon their knees 
crying, ' We surrender to thee, valorous Du 
Guesclin.' So he sent some of the men to dig 
the graves for Kantorbrie and the two tortur- 
ers, and he admitted the captains of the Grand 
Company to parley. The captains were struck 
with admiration when they saw how Bertrand, 
a prisoner, had killed his captor in his castle, 
and they swore to follow him whithersoever 
he would lead them, for he had always had the 
same fascination for men that his wife had for 
dumb animals. 



384 Feudal Chateaux 

" He assured himself of Tiphaine's safety 
before he went to Spain, and he promised 
little Guyonne that he would surely return 
and be present at her wedding. What he did 
in Spain I know not and it is of little conse- 
quence so far as my story goes. It is enough 
to know that he returned covered with glory, 
and that the King of Spain, for whom he had 
fouofht, sent him two mules laden with a service 
of golden plate, and the French King made 
him Constable of France ; but his faithful wife, 
Tiphaine la Fee, was not to share his triumph, 
for she died immediately after his return. 

"They 'say that she received the most 
remarkable funeral ever given to a Breton 
woman, for not only was it attended by all the 
knights, her husband's friends, but all the dumb 
creatures for miles around, — the sheep grazing 
in the fields, the cattle in the barnyards, and 
the wild animals from the woods left their 
haunts and joined in the procession, while the 
birds flew overhead in long straight lines, as 
when they migrate, filling the air with their 
doleful cries." 

Could I dispute the story when the heart of 
the Breton is so reverent and loving in its 
trust in these wonders ? 

Surely Tiphaine's Influence over animals 



Guyonne de Laval 3^5 

and birds was not more magical than the refin- 
ing power which she exercised over the some- 
what brutal nature of her great husband. He 
mourned her sincerely, and when war broke 
out again with the English, Du Guesclin threw 
himself into it with avidity, this time not at 
the head of a band of outlaws and brigands, 
but Commander-in-Chief of the Armies of 
France, and followed by all its noblest seign- 
eurs, with the son of his former commander, 
Charles of Blois, and his old antagonists De 
Clisson and De Montfort, proud to call him 
their general. 

Anatole only repeated the popular tradition 
when he added that in an interval between 
Du Guesclin's victory in Brittany and the 
campaign that followed in the south of France 
there was a grand festival at the chateau of 
Guy de Laval, for it was the wedding of 
Guyonne de Laval, now grown a beautiful 
woman, and the king himself attended and 
all the chivalry of France. Joan, widow of 
Charles of Blois, leaned on the arm of her 
old foe, De Clisson, for her son had mar- 
ried De Clisson's daughter Margot. Other 
feuds had been healed, and later a daughter of 
the house of Laval was to marry a De Montfort, 
though it is hardly possible that the three Joans 



386 Feudal Chateaux 

actually met at this wedding. Du Guesclin 
redeemed his promise made to little Guyonne 
so long ago, and honoured the occasion. His 
golden service, the gift of Henry of Trastamare, 
was displayed upon the festal board, 

" At Bertrand's plate gazed every eye, 
So massive, chased so gloriously." 

But the knights did not gaze upon it with envy, 
for their commander delighted to lavish upon 
them all the benefits which he received, and on 
this occasion his magnificent golden service was 
broken up and dispersed, each guest receiving 
as a souvenir of the feast the plate upon which 
he ate. It was with the bride's consent that 
the service was scattered so munificently, for 
it had first been offered to her. The Lavals 
were better provided with silver plate than 
any family in Brittany, for Beatrix of Flanders 
had brought o-reat store of it with her when 
she married Guy IX. Moreover, Kantorbrie's 
golden cup, beautifully wrought and enriched 
with jewels, had been left in the chateau and 
was given Guyonne by her uncle. But what 
were wedding-gifts of royal gold to her, com- 
pared to her wish that all should worship her 
husband as she did, for though the bridegroom's 
hair was streaked with grey the bride looked 



Guyonne de Laval 387 

upon her husband with love as well as pride, 
for he was not only the most illustrious general 
in the world, but her true captive knight whose 
life she had saved in this very chateau, and 
each wedding-guest drank a deep draught from 
Kantorbrie's jewelled cup as it was swung to 
him by the bride, at the end of a silver fish-pole, 
as he toasted Guyonne and her bridegroom, 
Bertrand du Guesclin. 



Anatole's story ended here. Du Guesclin's 
life thereafter is French history. He left his 
bride almost immediately for the campaign in 
the south of France. We all know how he 
died before Chateauneuf-Randon on the morn- 
ing that the castle was to be given up to him. 

An ancient chronicler quoted by Guizot says : 

"At the decease of Sir Bertrand a great cry arose 
throughout the host of the French. The French Mar- 
shal, Louis de Sancerre, said to the English, ' Friends, 
you have your agreements with Sir Bertrand and you 
shall fulfil them to him.' 

God the Lord ! ' said the captain, * you know well 
that Sir Bertrand, who was so much worth, is dead ; 
how, then, should we surrender to him this castle .? ' 

"'Needs no parley hereupon,' said the marshal, 'but 
do it at once, for if you put forth more words short will 
be the life of your hostages.' 

"Well did the English see that they could not do 



J 



88 Feudal Chateaux 



otherwise, so they went forth, all of them, from the castle, 
their captain in front of them, and came to the marshal, 
who led them to the hostel where lay Sir Bertrand, and 
made them give up the keys and place them on his bier, 
sobbing the while : ' Let all. know that there was there 
nor knight nor squire, French or English, who showed 
not great mourning. ' " 

The body of Du Guesdin was interred in 
the abbey of St. Denis, near the tomb which 
Charles V. prepared for himself, and a poet of 
the time wrote of his funeral : 

'' The tears of princes fell 

What time the bishop said, 
Sir Bertrand loved ye well ; 

Weep, warriors, for the dead ! 
The knell of sorrow tolls 

For deeds that were so bright ; 
God save all Christian souls, 

And his — the gallant knight." 

Oliver de Clisson succeeded him in the office 
of constable. He became too powerful for 
Jean de Montfort to regard him without un- 
easiness, for he feared De Clisson's next step 
in greatness would be the dukedom of Brittany. 
He treacherously invited De Clisson to visit 
him, which he did in company with Guy de 
Laval. De Clisson was shown into the donjon 
and the door closed upon him ; Guy de Laval, 
who followed, seeing that his friend was trapped, 




^j^ 1^ ^ .^ % r^ 



Guyonne de Laval 389 

rushed to De Montfort and demanded what he 
was going to do with De CHsson. 

" He has been very active of late," said De 
Montfort significantly ; " it is time he rested, — 
he shall sleep well to-night." 

Guy de Laval flew into a rage and demanded 
his release. 

"Your horse is at the gate," replied De 
Montfort ; " you would better leave while you 
can." 

Laval saw that he was powerless, and rode 
away in hot haste for help. De Montfort had 
given orders that De Clisson should be sewn 
up in a sack and thrown into the river ; but 
he was not without conscience and passed a 
horrible night. In the morning he sent for his 
seneschal and asked whether his orders had 
been obeyed. 

" To the letter," replied the servant. " I put 
him in the sack myself, and when I last saw 
him he was in the middle of the river." De 
Montfort's remorse broke forth violently. " I 
expected this," replied the seneschal, " so I 
made a surcoat of the sack with openings for 
head, arms, and legs. It in no way impeded 
the action of the Constable, and as the part of 
the river in which I placed him was the ford 
hardly a span deep, and he happened to be 



390 Feudal Chateaux 

mounted on his good horse, I doubt not ere 
this he has joined Guy de Laval." 

I was interested to discover in the family- 
records of the Lavals that the friend of Du 

Guesclin was surnamed " La Croix de " 

from his favorite oath, " By the Cross of 
Christ." He was a good Christian, though a 
heavy swearer, and he said, in dying, — for he 
knew no other prayer, — " BiatL Sire Diett en 
qui je crois." His son Guy married his cousin 
Guyonne, the widow of Du Guesclin. 

I had been somewhat puzzled by the repe- 
tition of the name Guy in the Laval family 
until reading the explanation given by the 
same records. A very early ancestor had per- 
formed such wonders in the first crusade that 
the Pope ordained that thenceforth there 
should never lack a Guy de Laval in any 
ofeneration. 

The oldest son was always christened Guy, 
and when male issue failed, the Pope ingeni- 
ously ordered that the King should choose a 
husband for the heiress of the Lavals from 
some noble family in France, and that, on his 
wedding, he should give up his own name and 
be known thenceforth as Guy de Laval. The 
last of the name, Guy de Laval the XXVL 
gave up his life in the Revolution, and the 



Guyonne de Laval 391 

family is now extinct. The traveller who vis- 
its the old chateau is still shown the dungeon 
to which, until recently, the entire population 
of the town resorted in procession on Ascen- 
sion Day " pour fouetter le dragon " (to beat 
the dragon). The chateau is now used as a 
prison and is even more sinister in appear- 
ance than in the lifetime of our heroes. 

At the abbey of Clermont, near by, — that 
graceful abbey of which Pierre Lescot was 
"Abbe Commendataire," and which he enriched 
with his beautiful work, — may still be seen 
the carved effigies of many a Guy de Laval 
and his dame, and among these you may find 
the placid features and piously folded hands, 
of little Guyonne. 

INTERLUDE 

While we lingered at Ploermel, Louis Rondel unex- 
pectedly joined us. 

He told us that the research of the Vicomte La Joyeuse 
had developed the fact that Marie Courtois's supposed 
child had not been drowned in the Loire as had been 
threatened, but had disappeared with his mother. Search 
was being made for some trace of his after history, for it 
was possible that he had left descendants and that the 
real Vicomte La Joyeuse might be discovered in humble 
life. This revelation had removed the obstacle of in- 
equality of rank and Yseult and he had been formally 
betrothed. 



392 Feudal Chateaux 

' ' Why, then, ' ' we asked, ' ' do you seem so unhappy ? ' ' 

*' Because," the young architect replied, passionately, 
" I feel like a thief and a murderer. Our happiness 
would not have been effected except by this terrible 
change which has robbed the Vicomte of all that 
made up his life. I do not believe that he can survive 
the final renunciation of the chateau. Yseult is in de- 
spair, and we both feel ourselves criminals, though we 
are not responsible for the turn affairs have taken. She 
cannot forget that I am the instrument of her father's 
suffering, and when he dies her morbid conscientiousness 
will make her look upon her love for me as a mortal sin. 
I am at once the most blessed and the most wretched of 
men." 

" I wish I could think of some way out of the diffi- 
culty," I said, fatuously. " Have the detectives, who 
are searching for the descendants of the nurse who 
changed the children, no clue ? " 

" No; and even if they should find that the real heir 
died childless, it would still leave Yseult's father the 
descendant of Marie Courtois." 

We were driving in the vicinity of Ploermel, and in the 
absorption of our conversation had forgotten that Ana- 
tole had ears. He turned on the driver's box and asked: 

" Pardon, monsieur, did I understand the name of 
Courtois ? That interests me, you understand, for it was 
my mother's maiden name. I remember my grand- 
father, Jean Courtois, distinctly, and my mother can tell 
you all about the family. They lived near Chateau La 
Joyeuse years ago, but emigrated during the Terror. 
My grandfather was too young at the time to remember 
his early home or to care for it; but my mother was in- 
terested in the place from tales that her grandmother 
used to tell, and so after my grandmother died we went 




^^^^^^^■-■*:H 




LAVAL- EXTERIOR VIEW. 



Guyonne de Laval 393 

there, and my mother was a servant for a time in the 
chateau. That was where I first met Finette. I was 
always following her. The Vicomte caught me kissing 
her one day, and told me to leave the chateau. My 
mother is a proud-spirited woman, and there were words 
between them. I remember she said that there might 
come a time when it could be proved that I had as good 
a right to stay there as he. They were inconsiderate 
words, spoken in a moment of rage; they meant nothing, 
and my mother bitterly repented them and begged the 
Vicomte's pardon; but they had been spoken, and he 
sent us both packing. We went to Angers, where my 
sister married a guardian of the castle, and where my 
mother keeps a chocolate shop. I had a chance to 
take a situation in this inn, where I have prospered, as 
Madame sees, until now, as its proprietor, I have arrived 
at the summit of my ambition; for in the fall Finette 
has promised to marry me, and I see nothing left to desire 
in life." 

Louis Rondel and I looked at each other in conster- 
nation. Was it possible that Anatole, the good-natured, 
contented lout, was the real Vicomte La Joyeuse ? 
Could life furnish such irony ? 

Zephyre made her promised visit to her son that even- 
ing. She had come to superintend the alterations and 
furnishings which were to prepare the little inn for the 
reception of Finette. 

" She should have been named Avalanche instead of 
Zephyre," said my husband as he watched Anatole driv- 
ing perilously from the station, his little pony-cart lurching 
frightfully to one side under the weight of his ponderous 
mother. 

We had each of us such a dread of aiding in the un- 
welcome discovery that seemed hanging over us, that 



394 Feudal Chateaux 

no one was willing to tell her of the state of affairs at 
Chateau La Joyeuse. " Fancy my leading these vulgar 
and stupid people to the Vicomte," said Louis Rondel, 
"and explaining that I have brought them to dispossess 
him! I decline to say another word. If Anatole has 
not the intelligence to comprehend his opportunity from 
what I was so unfortunate as to say in his hearing, I shall 
not enlighten him." 

" Anatole seems to me a good fellow," I said, weakly; 
" so far as opportunities have been given him he has im- 
proved them." 

" He has improved the education of a hostler until he 
is a tolerable whip, and your encouragement, to talk us 
all out of our senses." 

" Some of the titled members of the Jockey Club can- 
not equal him in either accomplishment." 

" Do not exasperate me," Rondel retorted. " Both 
he and his mother are human carrots, made to grovel in 
the mud, without aspiration to lift themselves to higher 
things, because they are absorbed in their little, barren 
lives, with no delicacy or elevation of soul or the imagin- 
ation necessary to commit a crime." 

But neither Anatole nor his mother were so stupid as 
they seemed. Possibly Finette had written from the 
chateau, for one day the little balcony on which we were 
sitting trembled under the elephantine tread of Zephyre. 

" Pardon, Messieurs et Dame," she said in a perfectly 
respectful but ominously insistent way, " but I have here 
a paper which I would be grateful if you would take the 
pains to regard." 

It was a yellowed document folded like an old letter, 
and sealed without an envelope. 

We looked at each other in dismay, and Louis Rondel 
rose, muttering that it was no affair of his, and he had a 



Guyonne de Laval 395 

pressing engagement at the railway station, as he had 
decided to take the next train for Paris. But Zephyre 
completely blocked the way. 

" The next train, Monsieur, does not leave until to- 
morrow morning," she said, calmly, and Rondel sat down 
hopelessly. Zephyre also sat, a familiarity which seemed 
to me portentous. 

' ' I come to you. Messieurs et Madame, for information. 
I am told that there is some flaw in the succession of 
Monsieur le Vicomte de la Joyeuse to his estates and to 
his title." 

"Such, unfortunately, is the case," replied my hus- 
band. 

"Unfortunately? but certainly — for the Vicomte. 
But for those others, — the descendants of Marie Courtois, 
— am I right in my information that they are the real 
heirs ? " 

" Not at all," Rondel replied, eagerly, " but the de- 
scendants of the supposed child of Marie Courtois, the 
child which she fled with, who was not her child at all, 
but the son of the old Vicomte." 

" Indeed, Monsieur, it has then been proved incontest- 
ably that this supposed child of Marie Courtois's was a 
La Joyeuse ? " 

" So it seems," Rondel admitted, grudgingly. " But 
anyone who attempts to prove his descent from that in- 
fant will find his task a difficult one. He will have to 
prove every link in the chain." 

" But having done so to the satisfaction of Messieurs 
the lawyers, he will then become the real Vicomte La 
Joyeuse and be given the chateau ? " 

Rondel did not answer; his heart was too full of rage. 

" You need not reply, Monsieur; I have the intelligence 
to follow the chain of reasoning. Eh, bien! the proof 



39^ Feudal Chateaux 

is very simple. And the Vicomtesse — behold her — it is 
myself, and Anatole is the legal Vicomte. What do you 
say to that, Messieurs et Madame ? " 

" That it is atrocious, impossible! " 

' ' N'est-ce pas ? Nevertheless that infant, ' the supposed 
son of Marie Courtois,' was my father. I have all the 
proofs. And you say that we have only to show these 
for Anatole to take possession of the castle and for me to 
ride in the landau of Madame la Vicomtesse ? " 

" Impossible ! " Rondel growled again. 

" Doubtless, Monsieur, the landau is old; it would re- 
monstrate, it would break down ; but it would be possible 
to have a new one made, which would be stronger and 
would not have the prejudices of the rickety old carriage. 
But pardon, I joke no more. You will possibly respect 
my intentions more when you have read this document," 
and she laid the folded paper on the little iron tripod 
table. " It is the dying confession of my grandmother, 
Marie Courtois, written out by the cure who attended her 
in her last moments." 

" I see that it is dated 1820," I said, feebly. " If the 
old lady died so long ago, and the paper has not been 
opened since, I hardly know what right we have to pry 
into the sins or secrets of her life." 

" Only, Madame, so far as this confession may set 
things right that are going wrong and affect people living 
now." 

" Even so," said my husband, " I do not think that 
Ave strangers have the right to break the seal. You 
would better take it to your father confessor and let 
him judge whether it has any bearing on the affairs of 
the present century." 

" I know that it has, Monsieur, for my father, who 
heard the paper read at his mother's death-bed, told me 



Guyonne de Laval 397 

its contents when he died, and bade me carry it to the 
Vicomte la Joyeuse, for it concerned him nearly." 

" Why did you not do as your father told you ? " 

" I took it to the chateau, Monsieur, and was always 
on the point of giving it to the Vicomte, but he is a proud 
man and not easy to speak to on such a matter, and so, 
when I found that he knew nothing whatever about it, I 
decided that it was best to let things rest as they were, 
especially as no good was to be gained by publishing 
abroad my grandmother's sin." 

We were all thunderstruck, and gazed at Z6phyre 
hardly crediting our senses. Surely the woman's soul 
must be constructed on a scale proportionate to her body 
if she were able so simply to give up wealth, rank, and 
opportunities, the possibility of whose loss had broken 
the Vicomte' s heart. 

None of us could speak for the moment, but Louis 
Rondel rose and took off his hat. 

" What do you intend to do with this paper now ? " I 
asked, when I could collect my senses. 

" Why, now — things are different. I hear that the 
Vicomte is distressed by a scandal that my grandmother 
sent her own child to the chateau and carried off his 
ancestor, and since affairs have reached that pass, I 
think it is time that my grandmother came forward and 
denied the charge." 

" What do you mean ? Did she not change the child- 
ren ? " 

" But no, Madame. How could anyone have been so 
depraved as that ? Not a Courtois at any rate. She was 
a sinful woman, but not so vile as that." 

" What, then, was the sin that she confesses here ? " 

" That she lied, Madame. It was the only lie of her 
life, and it v^^as told from a good impulse; but she fore- 



39^ Feudal Chateaux 

saw how it might make trouble, as at last it has, and it 
lay heavily on her conscience when she came to die. 
When those wretches were burning the castle and she 
thought that the child of the Vicomte, whom she had 
nursed at her breast along with her own child, and loved 
almost as much, might be roasted alive in the flames, she 
dashed up the burning staircase and strove to rescue 
him ; but she was caught and held by the sentry. 

" She knew that it would be nothing to him if the child 
of an aristocrat should perish, and so she told the lie that 
weighed upon her soul ever afterwards. She told him 
that it was her own child whom she was trying to save, 
and she tried to soften his heart by the sight of her 
mother-agony so that he would let her take away this 
little one, this child of the people. But it was too late, 
the staircase was consumed, and the sentry was hard of 
heart. She learned afterward that the lie was not needed, 
for all of the family had escaped before the firing of the 
castle. She had quick work to get out of the village with 
her own child before he would be killed by the men who 
believed him to be the heir. 

" She hid herself and her boy at Angers, and she never 
returned to La Joyeuse, nor would my father, though he 
often said that the Vicomte ought to have that paper." 

Louis Rondel drew a long breath and wiped the per- 
spiration from his forehead. 

" You understand fully," he said, " that in divulging 
your grandmother's confession you perform, as she did 
in making it, an act of renunciation, giving up freely all 
benefits which might accrue to you from letting things 
take their present course ? " 

" Certainly, Monsieur; since that course is not the true 
one, since we have no right to any of these things." 

" Then I agree with you, Madame Zephyre, that the 



Guyonne de Laval 399 

time has come you and for your grandmother to speak. 
Will you accompany me to Chateau La Joyeuse ? " 

" When you will, Monsieur." 

" We can arrive more quickly by driving across the 
country than by leaving on to-morrow's train and chang- 
ing cars at Rennes. We will ask Anatole to get us the 
best span of horses in Ploermel, — his pony will not an- 
swer for this occasion." 

"But, Rondel," said my husband, "do you realise 
that this puts everything back exactly where it was ? " 

" Precisely; and Yseult's father is still the Vicomte La 
Joyeuse. We will break it to him gently, and his life is 
saved." 




'-<: ?< '. 



^ .)(. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE SECRET CHAMBER ■ 

" O murs ! o creneaux ! o tourelles ! 
Remparts ! fosses aux ponts mouvants 

le beffroi des alarmes 

La cour oti sonnaient les clairons ; 
La salle oti, deposant leurs armes, 
Se rassemblaient les hauts barons." 



THE ANCIENT CASTLE OF COUCY 

IF Angers is the mother castle of the chdteaux- 
forts of France, the great donjon tower of 
Coucy looks the grandsire of them all. None 
of the huge towers of Angers or of any of 
the fortresses of Europe can rival its stupend- 
ous bulk, and, as it is in ruins, it appears 
far more venerable than older castles which 

400 



The Secret Chamber 401 

have been kept in a better state of preserva- 
tion. It is in every way the most remarkable 
castle in the north of France, unless we except 
Pierrefonds, for which it served as a model 
and with whose history it is intimately con- 
nected. 

Standing on a sightly eminence the ruin 
dominates the surrounding country, and its 
Titanic round tower, which the engineers of 
Mazarin could shatter but could not demol- 
ish, is the ideal representative of the bar- 
baric strength and brutality of the ruder and 
earlier portion of the Middle Ages. Viollet- 
le-Duc, who made this castle a ^special study,, 
says of it : " We counsel those who love to live 
sometimes in the past to visit the donjon of 
Coucy, for nothing so well paints feudalism in 
its power and its warlike life as this admirable 
ruin." In his Dictionnaire de /' Arihitectitre 
Frangaise, he assures us that its stupendous. 
donjon-keep is the finest specimen in Europe 
of medioeval military architecture ; " compared 
with this giant the largest towers known 
appear mere spindles," for the tower is one 
hundred feet in diameter, and the walls in 
some places thirty-four feet thick. This huge 
width has the effect from a distance of lessen- 
ing our appreciation of its height (180 feet)^ 



402 Feudal Chateaux 

which in a tower of ordinary diameter would 
strike one as remarkable. Everything about 
the castle is in proportion. The castle, with 
its great bailey, covered ten thousand square 
yards, and five hundred men were required to 
defend all its works ; but while twelve or 
fifteen hundred could be seated in its colossal 
council chamber, — the chief apartments are 
(with one notable exception) of such vast size 
and lofty height that it would seem as if the cas- 
tle were intended for a family of giants rather 
than for a numerous garrison of ordinary men. 
The huge donjon had but three stories, each 
of one immense vaulted room. Admittance to 
this tower was from the inner court across a 
drawbridge, which closed the door in rising, 
while a gate of iron bars slipping into the wall 
further protected the entrance. There were 
a staircase and a drain-pipe in the thickness of 
the walls, and a vast cellar for provisions and 
munitions of war, The exterior of the tower 
was round, but within, the rooms were twelve- 
sided, forming ten niches for closets, and giv- 
ing space for a fireplace and a well. In the 
centre of each floor was a large trap-door, and 
a pulley was attached to the ceiling of the 
upper chamber, so that bulky objects, ammuni- 
tion, etc., could be hoisted from the cellar to 



L__ 




The Secret Chamber 403 

any story. The second story did not differ 
from the first, with the exception that it had 
three windows, while the lower one was 
lighted only by the opening in its ceiling 
which communicated with this chamber, and 
by its iron-grated door opening on the court. 
Even this could be closed, as we have said, by 
the iron drawbridge, so that the lower portion 
of the tower was an unbroken wall. The sec- 
ond story also contained ovens instead of a 
fireplace, and 2^ pout-volant could be thrust out 
from one of the windows, affording commun- 
ication with the battlements of the walls, and 
allowing their defenders to receive ammun- 
ition and reinforcements from the tower, or 
to seek refuge in it even after the enemy had 
obtained possession of the inner court. The 
upper story was loftier and more pretentious 
in its architecture than either of the others. 
This was the great hall of the castle, where the 
baron assembled his vassal warriors. It was 
handsomely vaulted, and for half its height 
was wainscoted with wardrobes for the stack- 
ing of arms. Above these closets ran a gallery 
which encircled the room and opened upon a 
corresponding balcony which surrounded the 
exterior of the tower, and afforded the archers 
and slingers a protected cheinin de ronde, with 



404 Feudal Chateaux 

openings in the floor through which to pour 
boihng tar and mohen lead. The tower may 
have been roofed by a platform on which were 
posted the larger engines for throwing stones. 
Traces of all of these details can, with the help 
of Viollet-le-Duc's explanations, be still made 
out in the dismantled tower. 

Du Cerceau also gives plans and description 
of the entire castle, dwelling with most inter- 
est on the two oreat oblong halls within the 
courtyard, called respectively, from the stat- 
ues carved over their mantels, the halls of the 
Nine Heroes and the Nine Heroines. While 
these rooms are of corresponding size with the 
donjon, there existed in the old exterior wall of 
the castle, and opening from the Salle des 
Neuf Preuses, a small but elegant boudoir 
quite out of character with the rest of the 
building. The vaulting of the room is finer 
architecturally than anything else in the cas- 
tle, and it possessed a large and sunny win- 
dow, whose empty arch still looks out vacantly 
toward the lovely landscape. There was a lit- 
tle fireplace too, and a tiny bath- and dressing- 
room, and on the other side, but still within the 
wall, a spiral staircase running down to the 
cellars. Opposite the window was the door 
leading into the great salon, but this could 



The Secret Chamber 405 

have been covered with tapestry, or so hidden 
in the panelhng as to isolate the httle boudoir, 
and make it a secret chamber unknown even to 
the occupants of the castle. 

Although so very small it was so finely fin- 
ished that Viollet-le-Duc deems it worthy of men- 
tion, and indicates it on his plan, though he does 
not explain the use for which it was intended. 

Enguerrand III., the builder of the castle, 
stands as the hero of so many exploits that 
some of them may well be mythical. 

After distinguishing himself in early youth 
by leading the men of Soissons at the battle 
of Bouvines, he followed Simon de Montfort in 
his crusade against the Albigenses, and re- 
mained the comrade of his son Amaury after 
the death of Simon. Feeling that his exploits 
were not rewarded, he retired sullenly to his 
estate of Coucy, and during the minority of 
Louis IX. (St. Louis) his resentment and 
audacity had reached such a pitch that he 
aspired to seizing the kingship. It was to for- 
ward this scheme that the mighty fortress, 
which we still wonder at in its ruins, was 
planned and reared on the foundations of an 
earlier castle which Louis VI. had demolished. 
Begun in 1225, the work was pushed forward 
so rapidly that in 1230 it was finished. The 



4o6 Feudal Chateaux 

expense of building so hampered Enguerrand 
that he delayed hostile demonstration, but for 
the next ten years he was busy arming and 
disciplining his vassals. 

Queen Blanche (the mother of Louis) and 
the faithful councillors of the KinQf could not 
see without apprehension the gathering of so 
formidable an army near their doors. Dur- 
ing the preceding reign, Simon de Montfort 
had found a vent for his activity and a draught 
from the black waters that cool all ambition, 
in the war against the Albiorenses. His no 
less powerful son, the connetable Amaury, was 
gathering troops for a crusade, — an employ- 
ment for the energies of bellioferent lords with 
large bodies of militia in their following, which 
was always welcomed by kings timorous for 
the solidity of their thrones. 

Louis was too simple-minded and unselfish 
in his zeal to have been influenced by this con- 
sideration, but it must have added to the sat- 
isfaction of his councillors when the young 
King sent for Amaury and desired that " he 
should in his name serve Jesus Christ in this 
war, and gave him arms and money, for which 
Amaury thanked him on his knees. And the 
crusaders were mightily pleased to have this 
lord with them." 



The Secret Chamber 407 

Amaury de Montfort visited Enguerrand 
at Coucy, hoping to persuade him to join in 
the Crusade, and Enguerrand entertained his 
old friend and comrade right royally. A ban- 
quet was given to him in the great vaulted 
hall of the donjon, and knights from far and 
near were gathered to meet him.^ 

" For now for every merry mate 
Rose the portcullis' iron gate ; 
They sound the pipe, they strike the string, 
They dance, they revel, and they sing 
Till the rude turrets shake and ring. 
Pages with ready blade were there, 
The mighty meal to carve and share: 
O'er capon, heron-shaw, and crane, 
And princely peacock's gilded train. 
And o'er the boar's head garnished brave, 
And cygnet from the Aisne's broad wave, 
O'er ptarmigan and venison 
The priest had spoke his benison. 
Then rose the riot and the din, 
For from the lofty balcony 
Rose trumpet, shalm, and psaltery ; 
Their clanging bowls old warriors quaffed. 
Loudly they spoke and loudly laughed ; 
Whispered young knights in tone more mild 
To ladies fair, and ladies smiled. 
The hooded hawks, high perched on beam, 
The clamour joined with whistling scream, 

^ Walter Scott's description of such a feast is equally applicable 
to this festival. 



4o8 Feudal Chateaux 

And flapped their wings, and shook their bells, 
In concert with the stag-hound's yells. 
Round go the flasks of ruddy wine 
From Bordeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine ; 
Their task the busy sewers ply. 
And all is mirth and revelry." 

But though the Sieur de Coucy made the oc- 
casion of the visit of Amaury an exhibition of 
his power and weahh, he was not to be per- 
suaded to join his enterprise. He thought he 
saw in it a royal plot to distract him from his 
ambitious designs, and could not be led off to 
the Holy Land with vague visions of being 
crowned King of Jerusalem, when a more at- 
tractive crown was nearer at hand. He would 
Avait until Amaury had taken the loyal troops 
out of France and then strike for himself, 
meantime masking his designs under an ap- 
pearance of perfect fealty and unwillingness 
to leave the King unprotected. He appeared 
frequently at court and professed great concern 
for the King, who had fallen very ill. 

In this crisis the preparations for the crusade 
lagged, and Enguerrand still waited patiently. 
If the King died his opportunity would be 
better still. And while he dangled at court he 
fell in love with a beautiful woman, the Dame 
de Fayal, and was loved passionately in return. 




COUCY— BIRD'S-EYE VIEW 



The Secret Chamber 409 

It made no difference to Enguerrand, and 
probably little to her, that she was already a 
wife. The Sieur de Fayal had taken the cross 
under Amaury, and there was good chance 
that he would be slain in Palestine. If not, 
he would at least be conveniently out of the 
way for a long time, — another reason for not 
going off on this wild-goose chase. So with 
impatience burning like a hidden fire within 
his heart, Enguerrand kept an inscrutable de- 
meanour, and divided his time between Coucy 
and Vincennes, the King's favourite castle. 

Suddenly word was brought to Enguerrand 
that the King was dying. He knelt with the 
other lords in the antechamber waiting for 
the Bishop of Paris, who was within, to come 
forth and announce his death. The stillness 
was sharply broken by the wailing of two 
queens, Blanche, the mother of the King, and 
Marguerite, his bride. The Bishop lifted the 
arras and instinctively Enguerrand rose with 
his hand fumbling the handle of his sword. 
But the holy man's face was lit with joy. 
" The crisis is past, the King will recover, and 
in thanksgiving he has just asked me to place 
upon his shoulder the cross of the voyage over 
the sea. It is for this that the women wail, 
but they should thank God that he who was so 



4IO Feudal Chateaux 

near to being a saint in heaven is spared to be 
a saint on earth." 

Thanks to the chronicles of the Sieur de 
Joinville we have a clear understanding of the 
character of Louis, who as nearly deserves his 
title of saint as any in the long calendar : a 
fervent Christian, an ideal knight, pure of con- 
science and tender of heart, the search-light of 
history pronounces him sans peur et sans re- 
proche. 

He loved to sit under the oak of Vincennes 
listening to the complaints of the humblest of 
his subjects, and administering justice. The 
Sieur de Joinville, who was of a more earthly 
mould, tells us very naively of certain differ- 
ences of opinion which arose between himself 
and the King. 

While conductino- his crusade Louis was 
much affected by his first sight of a leper, and 
asked De Joinville whether he would rather 
endure the leprosy or commit a mortal sin. 
The worldly-minded but truthful courtier re- 
plied that he would far rather commit thirty 
deadly sins than have so loathsome a disease. 
Whereupon the King was much grieved and 
pleaded with him earnestly, " striving to show 
him how much more abominable and filthy 
than a diseased body was an unclean soul." 



The Secret Chamber 411 

This was the King against whom Enguer- 
rand de Coucy was rebelHng, and in contrast 
with whom he seems a very Lucifer. 

The King intended to lead personally the 
crusaders, — would he never be gone ? His men 
were ready now and impatient for action. As 
Enguerrand moodily paced the park of Vin- 
cennes, he noted the impregnability of the great 
donjon, and decided that he would not hazard 
its assault. He would keep Queen Blanche 
penned up within it in a state of siege with a 
small body of his troops, and throw the main 
force into Paris. These thoughts were surging 
through his mind when he met the King with 
several courtiers. " Here's my good Enguer- 
rand," he said, "who is so devoted to my per- 
son that he swore not to leave me when his 
friend Amaury besought him to go with him. 
Ah ! well, we will now all go together," and 
the King fastened the cross to the breast of 
the unworthy knight. 

Enguerrand was so taken aback that he was 
speechless, and the King, pretending not to 
notice his confusion, bade him go to his castle 
and put his vassals into marching order. 

Enguerrand rode swiftly to Coucy, but he 
had no thought, though the cross had been 
forced upon him, of really joining the crusade. 



412 Feudal Chateaux 

He would delay on one pretext and another, 
always finding some reason why his troops 
were not ready, and promising to follow and 
meet the King at Aigues-Mortes, from which 
point the Genoese fleet was to convey the 
crusaders to Cyprus. At the last moment the 
King would set sail without him, and then ! 

All worked as he planned. The King had 
left at the head of his army. Enguerrand only 
waited to attack Paris for a trusty courier 
whom he had sent with the crusaders to inform 
him that they had really sailed. A few days 
before the messenger was expected, he arrived, 
his horse staCTorerinof and white with foam. 
He handed the Sieur de Coucy a perfumed 
note. " But this is from the Dame de Fayal," 
he exclaimed, as he saw the device upon the 
seal which they had agreed upon between 
themselves, — a heart and the words " Thine till 
death and after." 

"Yes, my lord," replied the courier; "the 
lady is with the army, and recognising me, sent 
one of her people to me with this letter, beg- 
ging me to carry it to you in ail haste." 

Enguerrand tore open, the missive and read 
to his astonishment : " My husband suspects 
our attachment, and has discovered that you 
do not intend to go upon this crusade ; he has 



The Secret Chamber 413 

therefore determined to take me with him. 
Rescue me." 

The word was enough. It was not an un- 
precedented thing for wives to accompany 
their husbands. Queen Marguerite had her- 
self gone with the King ; the Dame de 
Fayal would probably be left with her in some 
safe fortress near the scene of action. Enguer- 
rand's visions of usurpation shrivelled in the 
flame of his passion. He ordered his forces to 
march at once, and endeavoured to overtake 
the army. When he arrived at Aigues-Mortes 
he found that it had sailed, but the King had 
left a transport for him and he followed to 
Cyprus. 

Then he found that he had been tricked. 
The Sieur de Fayal, having read his wife's 
letter, had allowed it to be sent, and rightly 
calculating its effect, had left the lady in the 
care of, some nuns of Provence. 

But Enguerrand and his men were now 
actively engaged in the crusade, and there was 
no other course open but to follow it to its 
bitter end. Bitter it was, for he met his death 
at Damietta. Dying, he bade his squire have 
his heart embalmed in spices, placed in a silver 
reliquary inscribed with the motto " Thine 
till death and after," and so to carry it to the 



414 Feudal Chateaux 

Dame de Fayal. And now comes the most 
darkly tragic part of the story, but so in har- 
mony with those brutal times that several 
similar instances are recorded in authentic 
chronicles. Revolting as it is, it forms the 
theme for old French ballads and is referred 
to by Longfellow. 

The Sieur de Fayal, intercepting Enguer- 
rand's squire in the performance of his errand, 
gained possession of the heart and had it 
skilfully cooked and served to his wife. This 
ghoulish feast was her last, for she died of 
horror when told that she had eaten the heart 
of her lover. 

On first hearing this ghastly tradition I 
fancied that in it I had found the clue to the 
mystery of the Secret Chamber, and that it 
might have been for the Dame de Fayal that 
it was so cunningly hidden and so elegantly 
appointed. But there is no such heartless 
iconoclast as research. Further historical 
study developed the fact that the legend was 
mythical ; and architects insist that the little 
room is of a later date than the rest of the 
castle, and could never have known either 
Enguerrand III. or the Dame de Fayal. 



The Secret Chamber 415 

II 

Coucy tells its secret to the Chateau of Pierre- 
foiids, and the latter blabs it, thereby proving 
that walls have tongues as well as ears. 

Another turn and a half of the century hour- 
glass, and the Chateau of Coucy was to play 
again its old role of menace to royalty. 

When that strange insanity fell upon Charles 
VI., his brother, Louis of Orleans, ruled the 
kingdom as regent, and there was little con- 
cealment of the guilty attachment which he 
cherished for the Queen, Isabel of Bavaria. 
The regency of the Duke of Orleans had been 
stoutly contested by his uncle, the Duke of 
Burgundy, and on the latter's death his son, 
John the Fearless, took up the enmity while 
feigning friendship for his cousin. 

Louis of Orleans had married the lovely 
Valentine de Visconti of Milan, and before the 
coming of the fateful Queen theirs had been 
a happy home in the ancestral castle of the 
counts of Blois, which Louis had purchased. 
He was an extravagant purchaser and builder 
of castles, and besides those mentioned in this 
chapter possessed several which do not bear 
upon our story. 

His duties as regent took him to Paris, and 



41 6 Feudal Chateaux 

here the httle palace called the Hotel de 
Boheme (which had been the favourite resi- 
dence of Queen Blanche, the mother of St. 
Louis) was given him by the King in 1388. 

Valentine came to Paris with him and fitted 
up the mansion with great magnificence. She 
had brought with her from Italy, not alone 
great store of art treasures, but the cultured 
Italian taste. She was the avant-cozLrriere of 
the Italian Renaissance which in the next 
century was to take France by storm. 

But this palatial town-house and the chateau 
at Blois were not sufficient for the Duke of 
Orleans. He realised that he had deadly ene- 
mies, and that he must have a stronghold near 
at hand, to which to flee upon sudden emer- 
gency, and in 1396 he purchased the Chateau of 
Coucy for four hundred thousand livres. Louis 
at once set to work altering, improving, and 
embellishing the old castle, and Viollet-le-Duc 
very carefully traces these alterations, distin- 
guishing between the rude masonry of Enguer- 
rand and the more elegant architecture of the 
portions erected at this period. 

Enguerrand had lived in the donjon, but 
Louis used it only for his garrison, build- 
ing within the inner court the handsome resi- 
dential portion, including the two great halls 



^m 



Chateau Pierrefonds. 



The Secret Chamber 4^7 

of the Nine Heroes and Nine Heroines. It 
was he who had the statues carved over the 
mantels, and the ornamentation was perfectly 
in harmony with his educated taste, for Louis 
was a scholar and left at Blois the foundation 
of a library which his son and grandson in- 
creased and rendered famous. Among the 
books still remaining which are known to have 
belonged to him are : a Bible, Horace, Virgil, 
Ovid's Metamorphoses, the Koran, the Fables 
of ^sop, and t\\& History of King Arthur and 
the Saint Graal. Valentine, for the amuse- 
ment of their children, caused two little 
picture-books to be made, " illuminated with 
gold, azure, and vermilion, and bound in Cor- 
dovan leather, at a cost of four hundred francs." 
Louis and Valentine had much in common, 
for they both loved art, literature, and refined 
luxury. Sauval, in his Histoire et recherches 
des antiquites de la ville de Paris, describes the 
magnificent appointments of their town-house, 
where they maintained a train of two hundred 
servants. The spacious salons were hung 
with cloth of gold embroidered with the coats- 
of-arms of Louis and Valentine, and with 
tapestries, one of which represented the Seven 
Virtues and the Seven Vices, another the 
history of Charlemagne, and a third that of 



41 8 Feudal Chateaux 

St. Louis. The chairs were covered with Cor- 
dovan leather or velvet ; the ceilings were pan- 
elled in Irish oak like those in the Louvre ; 
and huge silver vases, statues, and costly paint- 
ings filled the rooms. Valentine was as ex- 
travagant in her generosity, and a munificent 
list is given of the presents which she made 
upon a certain New Year's Day, among which 
figure : 

"To the Queen Isabel, an enamel painting on gold 
of St. John, framed with nine rubies, a sapphire, and 
twenty-one pearls, a brooch set with a great ruby and 
six great pearls for the King, three pairs of ' paternosters ' 
(missals) for the daughters of the King, and two great 
diamonds for the dukes of Burgundy and Berry." 

During the mad King's intervals of sanity, 
Valentine devoted herself to amusing him, as 
one would entertain a child with games and 
stories. Louis saw with satisfaction the influ- 
ence which her unselfish kindness might gain 
over his brother, and while she was thus chari- 
tably engaged employed himself with entertain 
ing the Queen. But the Duke of Burgundy 
was not to be consoled for Louis's usurpation 
of power by gifts of "great diamonds," and 
cousinly courtesies. John the Fearless had 
well earned his name — and Louis d'Orleans 
knew that he was not for one moment safe. 



The Secret Chamber 419 

and he pushed on his construction at Coucy. 
With Viollet-le-Duc for our guide we under- 
stand perfectly Louis's aherations, and see how 
he machicolated the parapets for their better 
defence, enlarged the windows, and gave every 
tower its separate staircase, though at every 
story changing the position of the flight of 
stairs from one side of the tower to the other, 
obliging anyone desiring to mount from the 
ground floor to cross at each landing a guard- 
room, and so protecting the castle from the 
entrance of spies and assassins. Most inter- 
esting of all, we see how the little room was 
niched in the thickness of the old wall, and the 
elegant vaulting of this period encrusted on 
the rough stonework. It was Louis d'Orleans 
and not Enguerrand who built the Secret 
Chamber and ornamented it in such regnal 
style. 

There is no proof that it was ever occupied. 
Louis was disappointed in Coucy. It was too 
far from Paris, and, in spite of the changes 
which he effected, not adapted to the improve- 
ments which had been made in warfare. It 
long remained the appanage of the dukes of 
Orleans, was a part of the marriage portion of 
Claude, the wife of Francis I., and was finally 
dismantled by Mazarin's orders. Although 



420 Feudal Chateaux 

Coucy had not fully answered his expectations, 
it suggested much which Louis embodied in 
the fortress of Pierrefonds, which he erected 
between 1390 and 1404. Thanks to the in- 
telligent and enthusiastic restoration of Viol- 
let-le-Duc, this castle presents to-day every 
detail of mediaeval times. 

While it took a garrison of five hundred 
men to defend Coucy, sixty men could man 
the larger sides of Pierrefonds, and forty the 
smaller. It was necessary to pass entirely 
around the castle in the fosse to enter it, while 
the fortifications were so connected that the 
defenders could be shifted instantly to what- 
ever point was attacked. To lay siege to this 
fortress, at least two thousand men were re- 
quired (more than could be thrown into the 
field by the Duke of Burgundy), and it was 
absolutely proof against any assault but artil- 
lery. Here he repeated the two great halls of 
the Nine Heroes and Nine Heroines, and few 
of us, I fancy, are so familiar with history as 
to give, without a little research, the stories of 
the ladies who still look down from the great 
mantel: Semiramis, Lampedo, Delphila, Tham- 
yris, Tanqua, Penthesilea, Menelippe, Hippo- 
lyte, and Deifemme. 

Pierrefonds has eight great towers, each one 










r^ l^"^*"- 



PIERREFONDS-BIRD'S-EYE VIEW. 



The Secret Chamber 421 

hundred and twelve feet high, with walls from 
fifteen to twenty feet thick. So impregnable 
was it that it withstood four royal sieges, and 
was only taken and dismantled, though not 
demolished, in 1616, by that great iconoclast 
Richelieu, who, in pursuing his policy of 
strengthening the monarchy, destroyed so 
many of the strongholds of feudalism. Its 
ruins were purchased by Napoleon I., whose 
interest in this castle was shared by Napoleon 
III., who contributed from his personal pro- 
perty one-third of the five million francs (the 
State voting the other two-thirds) which were 
necessary to restore it. The artist will always 
care more for the picturesque ruin of Coucy, 
but to the antiquarian and the architect the 
glistening walls of Pierrefonds are invaluable. 
The equestrian statue of Louis d'Orleans 
stands in the inner court in front of the grand 
staircase, where he had expected to stand to 
welcome the Queen, for at last she had pro- 
mised to be his guest, and Valentine had been 
posted off to Blois. The fortress of Pierre- 
fonds was finished, and all arrangements were 
made for a merry celebration of Noel therein. 
For the moment the Duke of Burgundy 
seemed to have buried his enmity, for he had 
dined with Louis at his own house, and they 



42 2 Feudal Chateaux 

had met together in cousinly fashion at the 
mansion of their uncle, the Duke of Berry. 

"On the 23d of November, 1407," says Guizot, "the 
Duke of Orleans had dined at the palace with Queen 
Isabel. He was returning in the evening along the old 
Rue du Temple, thinking of the woman whom he loved, 
and singing gayly a love-song. He was attended by only 
a few servants carrying torches. When the Duke was 
about a hundred paces from the Queen's hostel, eighteen 
■or twenty armed men, who had lain in ambush behind a 
house (called the Image de Notre Dame), rushed upon 
the Duke, shouting, ' Death, death ! ' ' What is all this ? ' 
said he, — ' I am the Duke of Orleans.' ' Just what we 
want,' was the answer, and they struck at him with axe 
and sword, and as they fled put out all lights. The Duke 
was quite dead. He was carried to a neighbouring 
church, whither all the royal family came to render 
the last sad offices. The provost of Paris set on foot 
an active search after the assassins. The Council of 
Princes met at the Hotel de Nesle. The Duke of 
Burgundy came to take his seat, but the Duke of Berry 
went to the door and said to him, ' Nephew, give up the 
notion of entering the council ; you would not be seen 
there with pleasure." 

" ' I give up willingly,' answered the Duke, ' and that 
none may be accused of putting to death the Duke of 
Orleans, I declare that it was I and none other who 
caused the doing of what has been done.' Thereupon 
he turned his horse's head and galloped without a halt, 
except to change horses, to the frontier of Flanders." 

But this was not the end. Valentine de 
Visconti, widow of the Duke of Orleans, with 



The Secret Chamber 423 

all her passionate Italian nature clamoured 
for justice, and finding that she could not 
obtain it, inculcated the duty of revenge upon 
her children, and not upon her own alone, but 
upon a little illegitimate son of the Duke of 
Orleans whom she adopted, saying, " This one 
was filched from me, yet there is not a child 
so well cut out as he to avenge his father's 
death." It was the Italian tradition of the 
vendetta. 

Valentine's eldest son, Charles, was of a gen- 
tle, poetic nature, that shrank from deeds 
of violence, but twenty-five years later the 
child of the bar sinister was the famous " Du- 
nois, Batard d'Orleans." Valentine, taking for 
her motto Rien ne mest plus, plus ne mest 
rien (I have nothing any more, nothing hence- 
forth is of any worth to me), gave herself to 
the inculcation of revenge, but soon died at 
Blois of a broken heart. 

France took up the quarrel, and took sides^ 
until the death of Charles, either with the Duke 
of Burgundy or with Valentine. Meanwhile 
the English invaded the kingdom, and, after 
the battle of Agincourt, pressed toward Paris. 

Isabel, whom *' faith unfaithful could not 
keep even falsely true " to her dead lover, was 
fascinated by the audacity of his murderer, and 



424 Feudal Chateaux 

favoured the cause of the Duke of Burgundy. 
The King, in an interval of sanity, had her 
banished from Paris and shut up at Tours. 
The Queen managed to send her golden seal 
to the Duke of Burgundy, who, with his men- 
at-arms, rode from Corbeil to Tours and car- 
ried her off. With characteristic audacity, 
they returned to Paris and attempted to seize 
the government ; but the dauphin, soon to be 
crbwned as Charles VII., took upon himself 
the task to which Valentine had striven to 
educate the sons of Louis d'Orleans, and just 
twelve years after his murder caused the Duke 
of Burgundy to be assassinated on the bridge 
of Montereau. 

Then, until the meeting of the peasant girl 
of Domremy with Dunois and the young King 
at Chinon, the English swept all before them 
in France. 

The history of Charles of Orleans, the poet 
son of Louis and Valentine, is associated more 
with the Chateau of Blois than with Coucy, 
and Pierrefonds, which he inherited ; and yet 
we are certain that he must have had the fire- 
place of the Nine Heroines in mind when, car- 
ried to England as a prisoner by the English, 
he beguiled his captivity by composing his 
graceful verses on the Heroines of the Past. 



The Secret Chamber 425 

" En viei 'temps grant renom couroit 

De Criseis, d'Yseud, et Elaine, 
Et maintes autres qu'on nommoit, 

Parfaictes en beaute hautaine. 
Mais enfin en son domaine, 

La mor les pris piteusement, 
Parquoi puis voir clerement, 

Ce mond n'est que chose vaine." ' 

' Charles was the friend and early patron of Villon, and enter- 
tained him at Blois. It was directly on this poem that the latter 
modelled his better-know Les Neiges d' A titan : 

" La Royne Blanche comme un lys, 
Qui chantait a voix de sereine, 
Berthe au grand pied, Bietris, Allys, 
Harembourges qui tient le Mayne, 
Et Jehanne la bonne Lorraine, — 

Qu'Anglois bruslerent a Rouen : 
Ou sont-ilz Vierge Souveraine ? 
Mais ou sont les neiges d'Antan ? " 




CHAPTER XII 



THE AFTERWORD 



The old order changeth, yielding place to new. — Tennyson, 

THE feudal period ends with the reign of 
Louis XI., for he broke the power of the 
independent barons and ushered in that of 
royalty. Henceforth the chateaux-forts were 
appropriated by the State, and many of them 
were converted into prisons. 

"In general," says Linguet, " all \h.^ places 
fortes could at will become as many bastilles ; 
there is not one of these fortresses, raised ap- 
parently against foreign enemies, which a min- 
isterial caprice could not instantly change into 
the tomb of the children of France." 

Amboise, Chinon, and Vincennes bear out 
this statement, both in their history and their 
sinister appearance, but most grewsome and 

426 



The Afterword 427 

heart-sickening in the mute testimony of its 
dungeons and torture chambers is Louis XL's 
favourite prison castle of Loches. Near these 
prisons were reared the terrible chateaux of 
death, the ghastly gibbets, which, like that of 
Montfaucon, frequently held many bodies, and 
a new victim was often suspended between the 
skeletons of other criminals or martyrs. 

As the monarchy became more firmly estab- 
lished the state had less occasion for prisons 
and forts, and many were torn down. 

The hour was striking, too, for a change in 
domestic architecture with the changed polit- 
ical conditions. The power of the nobles was 
broken ; they could no longer contend against 
their sovereign, and the desire to do so van- 
ished with the power. The nobility themselves 
tore down their old fortresses or made them 
over. The narrow meurtrieres for arrow- 
shots gave place to broad windows, the mas- 
sive walls to elegant carving, and the white 
chateaux of the Renaissance rose to mark an- 
other period in architecture and another epoch 
in history. 

While we were at Pierrefonds, a merry letter 
came from Yseult, bidding us to the promised 
Court of Love at Chateau La Joyeuse. 



42 8 Feudal Chateaux 

" I have arranged all the details," she wrote. " We 
will hold it on the terrace in front of the long corridor. 
I have the costumes ready, and the list of guests, — only a 
few choice spirits, to be invited when you have set the 
date. Louis Rondel has been practising upon the lute 
till he is a capital jongleur, and he looks remarkably 
well in his troubadour's costume. The dresses have all 
been lent me by an historical painter, an old friend of 
my father's, Monsieur Leon Gautier, of Blois, who has 
entered heartily into the spirit of the affair. He and 
Madame Gautier will sing some airs composed by 
Thibault, of* Champagne, in 1235. When will our trou- 
vere be ready with her romances ? " 

" We must not keep them waiting," said my 
husband. " Early summer is just the season 
for the court to sit. My mind is greatly re- 
lieved by Yseult's reference to Rondel. I 
feared that when the Vicomte was reinstated 
in his position he would have a relapse into 
the old caste feeling, but apparently every- 
thing is joyful. I hope your legends are 
ready." 

"Quite ready," I replied; "but it is a pity 
that we have not heard from the Chairman of 
the Search Committee on applications for ad- 
mission to the Society of the Colonial Wars, 
to whom you sent the papers which the 
Vicomte gave us." 

" Oh ! they came back weeks ago, with a 



The Falconer's Recital. 

(By permission of the American Art Association.) 



The Afterword 429 

letter from Bradford Brewster, so long and so 
illegible that I have n't had the time to puzzle 
it out." 

" Let me try," I said, and I found the 
cramped, old-fashioned script which the anti- 
quarian had affected not at all difficult to 
decipher. 

" I have verified the events detailed in the diary of 
the Vicomte La Joyeuse," he wrote, " and have found 
that his service is honourably mentioned in the official 
records of the Revolutionary War. He was aide-de-camp 
to Rochambeau at the battle of Yorktown, where he was 
wounded. It was before he had recovered that he re- 
ceived the news, which he so touchingly deplores in his 
diary, of the death of his young wife, to whom he was 
married during the stay of the French allies at Newport. 
* I told my dear Jane,' he writes, ' that I was a swallow, 
a bird of passage, that must fly away, but that I would as 
certainly return. Alas ! her swallow has no incentive to 
cross the seas again.' 

" This word 'swallow,' frequently repeated in the 
diary, has set me on the track of an important discovery. 
A year ago I had the task of looking up the ancestry of 
an applicant for admission to our society, a certain 
Louis Rondel. It was all straight sailing back to a 
Coddington L'Hirondelle of Newport. Apparently this 
had been the original name — the French word for swal- 
low — and I fancied that the father of this Coddington 
was one of the French allies ; but I could not find the 
name of L'Hirondelle either on the rolls of the French 
soldiers or on any marriage record, and we were obliged 



430 Feudal Chateaux 

to decline M. Rondel's application for membership. 
After reading the diary which you sent me, I took a run 
down to Newport and found the record of the marriage of 
Jane Coddington to Louis Raoul, Vicomte de La Joyeuse. 
" To me the conclusion is evident that the couple 
were secretly married, that the Vicomte never knew that 
his wife had left him an infant son, or her relatives the 
name and rank of the child's father. They called him 
L'Hirondelle, because the Vicomte had so signed him- 
self in his letters to his wife. I have written M. Louis 
Rondel that I have at last found the missing link in his 
ancestry, and that he is now eligible as a member of our 
society. More than this, it appears by the Vicomte's 
diary that he married again on his return to France, and 
that he left descendants, — your friends for whom you 
are making these inquiries. You can readily see that 
they are descended from the cadet or younger son, and 
that the title should revert to the older branch." 

" Stop right there," exclaimed my husband, 
"until I can take it in. If this is true, Louis 
Rondel is the real Vicomte La Joyeuse. Well, 
that is a little better than Anatole. The 
Vicomte can hardly now object to the mar- 
riage on account of inequality of rank ; and, 
as he has no son, he ought to be glad that 
the name and title are preserved for his 
descendants." 

" I don't know," I replied doubtfully ; " there 
is no tellinof how the Vicomte will take this 
second shock, and he has been through a great 



The Afterword 431 

deal of late. Mr. Brewster says he has writ- 
ten Louis Rondel. I am glad of it, for that 
absolves us from the responsibility of announ- 
cing the discovery." 

We found Chateau La Joyeuse so trans- 
formed by the gay company which filled its 
spacious rooms, that we hardly recognised it. 
At last it realised its name. Lights twinkled, 
flowers breathed perfume and gave great 
splashes of colour, music set our pulses thrill- 
ing, beautiful women smiled, and gay young 
people laughed and danced. The Vicomte 
himself was radiant, — none gayer or younger. 
He welcomed us most heartily, as did the 
Vicomtesse, who wore the family jewels and 
looked more queenly than ever. 

" I am so glad," I ventured, " that you have 
made Louis Rondel happy, — he is such a good 
fellow." 

" Ah ! yes," replied the Vicomte. *' It is not 
the match to which we might have aspired for 
our daughter, but he is, as you say, a good 
fellow, and very appreciative of the honour 
done him." 

" Yes, very appreciative," murmured Ma- 
dame ; " it is quite a pleasure to condescend. 
He is never failing in respect to the Vicomte, 
and his arm is always at my service." 



432 Feudal Chateaux 

The Gautiers came forward while she was 
speaking, and led us into another room to in- 
spect the costumes. The artist had sent his 
historical collection, and Yseult had had them 
copied or adjusted for each guest. 

" You were so enthusiastic over the old 
Courts of Love when we saw you at Chinon," 
I said to Monsieur Gautier, " that I should not 
be surprised if this entertainment were entirely 
of your planning." 

" On the contrary, it was Mademoiselle 
Yseult who suggested Berengaria's story to 
me. We were here just before we went to 
Chinon, soon after your first visit. I was 
struck by that delightfully grotesque piece of 
armour which hangs over the door." 

I looked up quickly. The face which Fi- 
nette had assured us had vanished was in its 
place again. Was it an augury of coming evil ? 
My superstition was quickly dispelled as Mon- 
sieur Gautier continued calmly : 

" It exactly resembled the shoulder-pieces of 
a cuirass worn by Joan of Arc in an old paint- 
ing by an artist of Lorraine. Our friends 
were good enough to lend it to me, and you 
remarked upon it when you saw it at Chinon. 
I did not tell you then where I obtained it, for 
that would rather have spoiled the effect of its 



The Afterword 433 

weird appearances and vanishings, with which I 
saw that you were somewhat impressed." 

" What a rogue you are ! " I exclaimed, some- 
what piqued. " You have explained one part 
of its mysterious history, but can you tell me 
how it happened that I was continually chan- 
cing upon that impish thing in our wanderings? 
Were you responsible for its appearance in the 
legends which we heard at Angers, at Mont St. 
Michel, at Ploermel, and elsewhere?" 

" Not I ; but I cannot vouch as much for 
your mischief -loving friend, Mademoiselle 
Yseult." 

"How could Yseult have had anything to 
do with the legends that I found in these 
widely distant places ? " 

"Very easily. She read me, for instance, 
the story of Turold, which she composed with 
the help of Miss Strickland's Life of Queen Ma- 
tilda, and other histories, and sent to her friend 
the nun, at Caen, to give to you. As for the 
other traditions, I think you will find that 
most of them were arranged in the same way 
and came to you through Zephyre and Anatole, 
who were suborned through the agency of 
Mademoiselle Yseult's maid Finette, at least 
so far as to introduce the strano^e face into 
their fabliaux." 



434 Feudal Chateaux^ 

It was not in human nature to feel no indig- 
nation on learning how egregiously I had been 
played upon and hoaxed, — but no one could 
cherish resentment against such a friend as 
Yseult. I punished her by making her ac- 
knowledge her misdeeds before the Court of 
Love, where the noble lady presiding con- 
demned her to wear shackles forever, and to 
be guarded for the rest of her life by a jailer 
who could not be corrupted by any bribe to 
give her liberty. Merlin's castle of Broeci- 
lande was named as her prison ; the shackle, 
"which was fastened on in the presence of the 
court, was a tiny iron ring set with carbuncles, 
and Louis Rondel was constituted her guard. 

" And how about the mysterious footfalls on 
the vanished staircase ? " I asked Finette one 
day, when I found her alone in the library. 
" Have you heard them again since the face 
has come back ? " 

" No, Madame," Finette replied, with a 
sheepish look, " and no one will ever hear them 
again." 

" Why not ? " I asked. 

" Because, Madame, that was a practical 
joke of Anatole's when he was a boy. He was 
flying his kite over the chateau and its tail 
caught in the girouette (weathercock) on the 



The Afterword 435 

turret. It was a long tail of stout twine, with 
a bit of wood fastened to the end to make it 
heavy. When the wind blew the weathercock 
round and round, it would wind and unwind 
the kite-tail, and cause it to bang and drag 
against the library wall, mounting and descend- 
ing, clap, clap, clap, like the tap of a shoe on 
a staircase. All the other bobs wore away, 
but the grey string and the bit of wood re- 
mained, so near the colour of the wall that no 
one noticed them. It was chance that cauofht 
the kite-tail and set the machinery in motion ; 
but Anatole was carrying wood into the library 
for the fire one afternoon, when a very demon 
of a wind whirled the weathercock about, and 
the Vicomte exclaimed, ' There are those foot- 
steps again ; they will drive me crazy ! ' 

"This amused Anatole so much that he did 
not confess, and when the Vicomte sent him 
away for kissing me, he was vindictive enough 
to be glad that in restoring the twine he had 
left a cause of vexation. When Monsieur Ron- 
del examined the turret, and tore away the 
nests of the ravens, he took with them the piece 
of twine, or else it has at last blown away of 
itself, for the sounds are heard no more. I did 
not know this until the last time that I saw 
Anatole, or they would long since have ceased." 



43^ Feudal Chateaux 

After the other guests had left the chateau 
we showed Louis Rondel the letter we had re- 
ceived from America in reference to his own 
descent. 

We were alone in the dining-room and a 
light fire was burning in the great fireplace. 
He dropped the lettef quickly upon the bed of 
coals. " Pardon rne for destroying your 
friend's communication," he said, " but it is 
only a romance of his imagination, though a 
very dangerous one. I would not have the 
Vicomte have the least suspicion of this for 
worlds. His is a generous as well as a proud 
nature. It is his foible, if you please, to be 
magnificent, to play the patron, to stoop to 
confer favours ; but he does it gracefully, and 
it makes him happy to condescend. He has 
suffered cruelly. He shall never suffer again." 

Which was romance, the theory of Bradford 
Brewster or the denial of Louis Rondel? 
How much was truth and how much fiction ? 
We can only answer as though the question 
were asked of any of these legends. Some- 
times imagination is the only real part of life, 
and romance truer than history. 



The End. 



FRENCH HISTORY. 



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